The Searching
by Crazy Retasu
Summary: After Cell , Kuririn sinks into a depression--but Roshi kicks him out of the house to find a meaningful existence. Follow Kuririn and Juuhachigou as their lives collide. **COMPLETE**
1. Prologue

**The Searching:**

**Prologue**

  
  


For the high northern provinces, it was a warm day. The sun was bright, and a gentle breeze stirred through the pine forest. For once no haze hid the snowcapped mountains on the horizon. The deep blue sky was clear, save for a single figure speeding through the air.

The flyer paid no attention to the beautiful surroundings or the pleasant weather. Her blue eyes were scanning the ground, searching intently for someone who had been killed over a month ago.

Now he lived again--thanks to the power of the dragonballs.

Whether he was in this area, she didn't know for certain, but the police had reported a rash of stolen cars in the region; that was as good a sign as any. How ironic that she had to rely on the police for information, when not too long ago she had killed cops who were chasing them.

It was even more ironic that she wasn't able to find her twin brother on her own, even though she claimed to rely on no one but herself.

She flew on, as she had for the past four weeks, systematically covering thousands of miles without rest since she never ran out of energy. 

The mountains grew larger as she neared them, and the air colder. There was no sign of human habitation anymore; all she could see was dense coniferous forest broken by a shallow river flowing from high up in the mountains. There would be no reason for her brother to be here--unless it was part of another "fun" adventure of his. She came to halt, hovering just above the treetops, and closed her eyes. The strain of trying to guess her brother's actions was starting to wear down her mind. It was typical of him to play hide-and-go-seek with her when they had more serious things to worry about.

Like what to do with their lives now.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and surveyed the landscape, considering her next course of action.

Her eyes fixed on a speck hovering in the sky towards the northwest.

It was a very **familiar** speck.

"Juunanagou," she whispered aloud. Her face softened with relief, then hardened just as quickly with stony rage. She took off and chased after her brother.

He was flying obliviously, carrying an ax over his shoulder, when his sister suddenly appeared in the air in front of him.

"Juuhachigou!" he exclaimed, slamming to a midair stop with surprise plain across his face.

"I've been searching for you!" she yelled, all the pent up frustration of the past month welling over. "**Where** have you **been**?!"

He smiled languidly, taking control of the situation again. "Here and there. I woke up in a huge crater somewhere, flew out of that desolate wasteland, stole a few cars, and drove till the roads ran out," he said with a shrug. "It was fun."

"Fun? Is that all you care about?" Juuhachigou scowled at him. "Didn't you wonder where **I **was?!" She lunged forward to slap him, but he easily floated beyond her reach. He smiled again. "Anger makes you clumsy, sister!"

She crossed her arms and glared. "**Idiot**! You were **dead**!"

"What?"

"Remember Cell?"

Juunanagou was silent.

"He **killed **you," Juuhachigou continued. "Cell absorbed me, too. But I was healed before it was too late. And you were wished back to life with the dragonballs. That's when you 'woke up'."

She neglected to mention that someone had also tried to wish them back to being complete humans, but this wish had been beyond the powers of the dragon.

"And Cell?" Juunanagou asked.

"Dead."

They hung in the air for a moment, silent.

Finally, Juunanagou smirked and dropped down through the trees, landing nimbly on the pine needle-covered forest floor, his ax still in hand.

"Where are you going **now**?" Juuhachigou called down to him.

"My house," he replied, already walking away. "Come on, let me show you."

Unable to refuse, Juuhachigou descended and followed her brother into the forest.

  
  


****


	2. Storm-Tossed

**The Searching:**

**Storm-Tossed**

  


Kuririn woke to the sound of heavy rain battering against the side of the house and drumming against his window.

Sighing, he rolled over in bed, trying to hang on to the last fragments of his dream: _blonde hair, so close he could reach out and touch its silky strands. Blue eyes shining. Warm lips brushing his own…Juuhachigou…_

A crash of thunder shook the house and the dream fled into the dark recesses of his mind. He sighed again, and threw back the warm covers, grumbling. He glanced at the clock over on the nightstand; it was just past noon. Stifling a yawn, he stretched and stood up. He walked over to the window. The rain was coming down harder now and all he could see was wet grayness beyond the pane.

All he could see for **his life** was depressing grayness.

The death of his best friend--his **first** friend--hit him harder than any physical attack he had ever suffered. He couldn't remember his **own** deaths clearly--which was probably a good thing--but he even now he could still see the sad, determined smile on Goku's face as he prepared to die. Son Goku was the best, the bravest, and the kindest man Kuririn had ever known. Goku was the man who fulfilled and created legends, the man who could have been God, the man who should have lived forever…

But Son Goku was dead.

He had died to save the planet he loved so dearly--and the people he loved even more. He did the only thing he thought could beat Cell--but Goku had failed because Cell was too powerful.

But Cell wouldn't have become so b if he hadn't absorbed Juuhachigou…if Kuririn hadn't let Juuhachigou live…

Kuririn gritted his teeth and ground his palms into his eyes, rubbing away guilty tears. He could never have hurt Juuhachigou. She had captured him with only a single kiss, and against all logic, he was in love with her. Of all the women in the world, it had to be the enemy cyborg programmed to kill his best friend, the terror who would leave the world in ruins in another future, the tragic young woman who had her humanity stolen by a wicked scientist, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life--

But she was also the last element Cell needed to reach his Perfect Form, to gain power far beyond that of even a Super Saiyajin. His thoughts led to the same inevitable conclusion, as they had each day since Goku's death:

_If **I** had **killed** Juuhachigou, Goku would still be **alive**._

But he hadn't killed her. What was the reward for his compassion, his weakness? 

__Nothing. 

__Goku was dead, and Juuhachigou had flat out rejected him.

_Damn it all. _He stormed into the tiny bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and turned on the shower. The rush of water muffled the sound of pounding rain outside, but failed to drown out the thoughts inside his head. Kuririn shed his rumpled pajamas and stepped under the warm cascade. The hot water pounded against his back and shoulders, until he turned and let the stinging drops batter his face, the water running down his face in rivulets like tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kamesennin sat in the living room watching TV with his turtle when Kuririn came down the stairs, wearing a faded orange gi and toweling dry his shaggy black hair. After the drastic events of the Cell Games, Kuririn had let himself go; he no longer shaved his head, and rarely even shaved his face. The rugged beard on his chin didn't suit the young man at all, but Muten Roshi said nothing. He watched Kuririn wander into the kitchen, then turned his attention back to the television.

"Tropical Storm Cinthy has been downgraded to a tropical depression," the weatherman announced. "We expect the storm to continue to decrease in intensity as the day progresses." The screen switched to a radar display of the storm superimposed over a map of the sea.

"Where are we on there?" the turtle asked, nodding his heavy head at the TV. Roshi extended a bony arm and jabbed at a small speck on the screen that represented his island. "Here," he replied, "Just on the edge of the storm. We got lucky this time. It's moving away from us." Thunder growled outside as if to remind them that the storm was still out there.

Kuririn banged around the kitchen looking for something to eat and Roshi changed the channel. The turtle crawled out to the small front porch to watch the rain and the waves. After flipping through several more channels, Roshi finally turned off the TV and got up to join Kuririn in the kitchen.

"Sleep well?" the old man asked, picking up the coffee pot and swirling around the dregs at the bottom. Deciding it wasn't worth drinking, he dumped out the pot in the sink and set about making fresh coffee.

"Hn," Kuririn grunted, shoveling a spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth. Roshi put coffee grinds in the machine, poured in the water, and hit the "on" button.

"The storm didn't bother you?" He slid the pot back into the coffee machine just before the hot liquid started to drip.

"No."

Roshi's eyes widened momentarily behind his ever-present sunglasses. The simple response indicated a change for the better. A few months ago, Kuririn had awoken screaming in the night during a thunderstorm. In his dreams, the thunder had become the terrifying explosion of Cell's ki. The old teacher had stayed awake, thinking, long after Kuririn had cried himself back to sleep. After that night, Roshi slept in the living room instead of his room upstairs; he wanted to leave the young man some dignity.

Roshi pulled up a chair and sat down across from Kuririn. The house was silent except for the sound of pattering rain. He waited until Kuririn finished eating before speaking. "Kuririn."

The younger man scooted back the chair and got up to wash his bowl in the sink.

"Kuririn," Roshi said again. Kuririn scrubbed the bowl, ignoring his former teacher, then put the clean bowl in the drainer and turned around. "What?"

"It's been a while since--" the old man ran his hands along his white beard, trying to phrase his words the best way. "--since Cell." 

"Three months and eight days," Kuririn said softly, looking down at the floor.

"More than enough time to mourn and move on."

Kuririn clenched his fists. "No." He looked up, eyes flaring with anger directed as much at Kamesennin as at himself. "No! We can't just forget him!"

"We won't forget him," Roshi continued patiently. "But you can't forget your own life either. Goku wouldn't want you to."

"I don't care about my life."

That statement hung in the air like a suspended guillotine--it held the threat of death. Roshi had to be careful or he could become the executioner. "You've moped around the house for three months. It's time to stop," Roshi accused, watching for a reaction. "Goku lived his life to the fullest. He never gave up, no matter how bad it got."

"I'm not Goku."

"You're damn right. You're Kuririn." He paused, knowing his next words would stab at the former monk's heart. "He's dead, and you're alive," he pushed onward stubbornly. "I tell you this not only as your teacher, but as a friend. It's time you stopped lying around like a dead man! Go out into the world and have a **life** again! Train as a fighter, or get a job, or settle down with a beautiful young girl and have a family--just **do **something to make your life worth living again!"

Kuririn stared at the old man and stammered, "You--you're kicking me out?" His face was pale.

Roshi shook his head. "No. I'm simply telling you it's time to leave. You have until tomorrow morning to pack up." 

Having said all that was necessary, Muten Roshi stood up and walked past Kuririn to join the turtle outside in contemplating the falling rain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuririn woke up early the next morning to pack up the last bits and pieces: his toothbrush, his pajamas, a pair of socks, and a hat he had found under the bed. He crammed everything into two brown leather suitcases, then stood in the center of the bedroom, silently saying goodbye to the place he had called home for so many years. Kame House **was** his home, much more than the small village he had been born in ever could be. That place held few good memories for him, and although Kame House had seen its share of problems, he felt more safe and comfortable here than anywhere else in the world.

He'd come back here someday. He was sure of it. No matter what Roshi said.

He picked up his luggage and walked out of the empty room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kamesennin waited at the front door with the turtle, his expression unreadable behind his glasses as he watched Kuririn carry the suitcases down the stairs. Kuririn stopped in front of Roshi, dropping his baggage with a thud. "I hope this makes you happy," he said, attempting to put an angry edge to his voice but failing. He stared down at the turtle, unsure of how to say goodbye. Roshi cleared his throat, equally uncomfortable. Abruptly Kuririn turned to face his teacher. 

"Muten Roshi--" The words caught in his throat and he suddenly wrapped his teacher in a bear hug.

After a moment, he released the old man from his choking embrace. "Sorry," he laughed, embarrassed. Roshi coughed to get some air back into his lungs. Kuririn had neglected his fighting skills for several months, but he still had rib-cracking strength. " 'S okay, Kuririn," he replied, coughing again. Something seemed to be stuck in his throat…

Kuririn smiled. _The first time I've seen him smile in a **long** time,_ the old man thought to himself. _I guess I did make the right decision…_ "Where will you go?" he asked aloud.

"Capsule Corporation to see Bulma," Kuririn replied. "After that--I don't know."

"I wish you well, wherever you go." Roshi's throat felt thick. 

"Thank you," Kuririn told him, bowing deeply. "For everything."

Roshi bowed his head in acknowledgment, then opened the door. Kuririn lifted his suitcases and walked outside, followed by Roshi and the turtle. The beach was littered with driftwood and seaweed tossed ashore by the storm. Kuririn looked around, surveying the island one last time, taking in the whispering palm trees, the golden sand, the salty smell of the sea, the gently lapping waves, and the unmistakable pink house in the middle of it all. 

"Well, I guess I should go," he finally said, tightly gripping the handles of his suitcases.

"Come back soon," the turtle spoke up. "The house will be too empty."

"Take care of yourself, Kuririn," Roshi added. Kame House would feel empty without his student--his **son**. The realization hit him like a tidal wave; Kuririn was more than just a student of his, more than just a resident of his house--he had become part of his **family**. 

But all children grow up eventually. It was Kuririn's time to leave home and go out into the wide world, yet it was still hard for the father to let him go. Behind his glasses, Roshi's eyes stung and he blinked rapidly to clear them.

"Goodbye, Roshi, Turtle!" Kuririn shouted, bounding into the sky. He circled the island once, then powered up and zoomed away into the deep blue sky, leaving only a pale trail of ki behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning sky was crisp and clear, and the sun shone down warmly on the small figure soaring over the glittering sea. It had been a while since Kuririn had taken to the air, but the skill was so deeply ingrained in him that he flew effortlessly. Flying with hair was a new sensation, however; the wind whipped his hair around, tickling his scalp, and pulled at his beard. He laughed and felt a sudden urge to ascend as high as he could, to leave the earth behind and touch the blazing sun. With a grin, he changed his course and flew upwards, extending his arms and spiraling madly as he rose. The air grew cooler, and the sky ahead became a deep cobalt as he flew higher.

_I could go up and up and up forever and never have to worry about anything, never have to feel anything again…_

__The thought jarred him from his giddy reverie, and he slammed to a stop. He looked down, mildly surprised he was still holding on to his suitcases, but even more amazed by the sight below him. The ocean was a distant blanket of sapphires, speckled with a few emerald islands. Closer to the curving horizon lay a massive chunk of brown and green, the main continent. He hovered for a moment taking in the incredible view. The world seemed so small, yet so vast at the same time. Compared to the grand scheme of the universe, his life seemed inconsequential, his problems meaningless. From out here, the earth seemed simple and undemanding…

He was starting to feel chilly and lightheaded from the thin air. Kuririn raised his ki and dropped to a lower altitude. He got his bearings and aimed for his destination: the Western Capital. As he picked up speed, he closed his eyes and let the air caress his face as he extended his senses. He had ignored his friends for the past three months and no longer knew their whereabouts. Perhaps he could locate some of them by their ki. The Saiyajin like Vejita and Gohan should be the easiest to find since they were the most powerful on the planet--

___--now that Goku is no longer in this world--_

Something clenched in his gut. He tried to push the thought aside and concentrated on finding a bright ki instead. He couldn't explain how he did it; it was a talent he had, feeling ki at distances greater than most others could--

--_but Goku is still better at that than I am--or he was--oh God--_

He swallowed and gritted his teeth, berating himself mentally for being so emotional. Roshi had told him to go out and make a life worth living. A life of guilt and tears wasn't worth **anything**. He gave up his search for a familiar ki now that his concentration was broken. He knew where the Western Capital was, and that was all that he needed to focus on at the moment; any other emotions were irrelevant.

_If only it was that easy…_

With a livid burst of ki, Kuririn sped towards his destination.


	3. Reflections

**The Searching:**

**Reflections**

  


Juuhachigou opened her eyes and found herself lying in bed with a flood of sunlight pouring through the windows. While others would have blinked and squinted in the morning sun, the cyborg girl simply sat up in bed and looked at the empty space next to her. The sheets were smooth, and the pillow fluffed--as if Juunanagou had never made it to bed last night.

But it wasn't like they needed to sleep anyway; the eternal energy generators installed inside each of them prevented them from ever tiring physically. Yet an occasional hour of sleep refreshed the humanmind that still managed to control her once-human body.

Juuhachigou slid her bare legs out from beneath the worn evergreen comforter, listening for sounds of her brother. Unable to detect anything in the house besides the dripping of a faucet and the gnawing of termites in the wall, she stood up and walked across the smooth wooden floor to stop at the full-length mirror between a heavy wooden dresser and an old-fashioned vanity table. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror; a young girl wearing only an oversized T-shirt stared back at her. Juuhachigou raked her fingers back through her hair, undoing the tangles, watching as her mirror counterpart did the same.

_Every day, I hope--_

__Juuhachigou took the bottom of her nightshirt in her hands.

_Every day, I wish--_

She pulled the shirt over her head.

_Every day--I'm disappointed._

The shirt dropped soundlessly to the floor; unreal blue eyes stared at Juuhachigou from the mirror.

Juuhachigou stared back, eyes fixated on the scar on the girl in the mirror. She put a hand flat to her chest, feeling a heart pulsing beneath her perfect skin--and Juuhachigou felt as if she were only a reflection, copying the movements of someone else on the other side of the mirror.

Her fingertips trailed lower, tracing the scar along her breastbone and over her flat stomach to just above her navel.

Gero had taken away so much from her, claiming every part of her for his selfish purposes. Her body, her mind, her life, her soul--he wanted to control them all.

She could never reclaim her body completely; the scar was only further proof of that.

She could never regain her mind completely; the scar reminded her of a painful past she couldn't remember.

She knew behind the scar lay the source of her unnatural life, the source of her inexhaustible energy. Gero had given it to her, and yet Gero couldn't allow her to possess even this. He had placed a bomb inside her, nestling it against that technological life source so he could destroy it at the touch of a button.

So **anyone** could destroy her at the touch of a button, provided they had the right information.

_Kuririn could have killed me._

_I could have killed **myself**._

Her hand clenched as the bald man's words echoed in her head: "_I think it's sad to have to live with a bomb inside you!"_

As if he could know.

She glared defiantly at the girl in the mirror, who existed only as long as the original stood in front of the mirror, only as long as there **was** a mirror…

Kuririn's wish had taken away the bomb.

Juuhachigou was filled with a sudden necessity **to kill**.

_Kuririn's wish--_

The mirror shattered into a thousand silver shards as her fist smashed through it.

Kuririn's wish had taken away her last chance at **mortality**.

The immortal girl in the mirror laughed at Juuhachigou a thousand times from the scattered pieces of broken glass. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ax blade bit into the tree trunk with a solid _thunk_. Juunanagou yanked it out and wiped a droplet of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before preparing for another swing. 

_Thunk!_

He had been out in the forest for hours now. A huge pyramid of logs and several scattered tree stumps behind him proved that Juunanagou and his ax were a force to be reckoned with. Juunanagou hacked away at his current sylvan victim, brows narrowed with fierce concentration.

_I could blow this whole mountain to dust without even trying,_ he thought. _I don't need an ax to chop down a flimsy tree!_

But that was his goal, to cut down a tree using only his basic strength--using only his rough estimate of the power in a **normal** human. Still, the physical effort was nominal; the toughest part of the job was controlling himself so he wouldn't slice through the whole tree--or several trees--at once.

Almost on cue, he swung the ax too hard, chopping clear through the wood. The trunk tilted dangerously to one side, seemingly hanging in the air, then crashed to the ground in a massive explosion of pine needles and splintering wood.

Juunanagou dropped the ax and sat down on the new tree stump, resting his head on one hand, while the other idly twirled a long green pine needle. _I'm never going to get the hang of this! _he thought dejectedly. Maybe it was impossible for him to fell a tree in an ordinary manner; maybe he was just too strong to be **ordinary**. He looked out at the forest, counting the number of trees he could see ahead of him. 

He smirked and let the pine needle fall from his hand to join the countless other dead needles on the forest floor. He had plenty of trees left to cut down--he would get it right eventually, and reduce the entire forest to stumps using only the strength of an ordinary man.

Then he would have won **this** round of the game.

His entire life since Gero had become a game to him. Driving a car instead of flying under his own power, shooting a gun instead of blasting energy, using an ax instead of incinerating the entire mountainside at once--it was all just a game he played to divert his mind from the truth. By using mundane means to complete his tasks--even unusual ones like killing Son Goku or leveling an entire forest--he could pretend that he, too, was plain and ordinary.

But games of make-believe are best played **alone**…

"Juunanagou!"

He lifted his head at the sound of his sister's voice. It came from the direction of the cabin. He resented the fact that his sister had intruded upon his solitude. She subtly reminded him every day that **they** were **different**. She didn't eat, because it wasn't necessary for them. She slept only a little, because they didn't need more than a few hours a week.

Although Juunanagou himself hadn't slept last night. He'd been up all night sharpening the ax. He had found it stuck in a stump in the forest on the day Juuhachigou had found him. He only came up with the idea for this game yesterday, though. He was proud of himself; this game would last him a while.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Juuhachigou yelled from somewhere above him. She was probably floating in the sky, trying to spot him through the impenetrable canopy of the pines. He grinned, but made no move to reveal himself, certain that Juuhachigou was too far away for the locator in her brain to detect him since his own hadn't alerted him of her presence. Juuhachigou didn't understand his games, describing them as idiotic and calling him a "very human male." She didn't realize that **that **was exactly what he wanted to hear.

So now he stayed silent, testing the edge of his ax with his fingertips as his sister called his name a few more times. Finally, he heard the whooshing sound of someone blasting into high-speed flight.

She was gone--for the moment.

Juunanagou stood up, dusted off his jeans, and picked out the next tree that would get a taste of his ax.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot! _

Juuhachigou zoomed through the air, heading southeast, unconsciously retracing the trail she had followed in her first search for her brother two months ago. 

_Juunanagou, you are an **idiot**!_

In the past weeks, they had settled into a routine, saying little but thinking too much as the days rolled on meaninglessly. He would leave the cabin for a few hours each day, to find something "fun", he said. She would sit in the kitchen, or on the bed, or even on the roof, alone with her thoughts while she waited for his return. 

Juuhachigou did **not** like to be alonewith her thoughts. 

Especially the ones that crept into her mind unexpectedly. 

Once, she had been sitting at the kitchen table, when a black bird had flown against the closed window, unable to distinguish the clear glass from air. The creature flopped onto the outside window ledge, so she stood up to open the window, briefly recalling Juurokugou's strange fascination with these animals. She leaned out only to see it frantically flap its fragile wings in a spreading pool of blood as dark as its own feathers.

--_blood, dark black blood_--

The image had sprung unbidden into her mind then--as it did now. It summoned memories of pain, of fear, of terrible helplessness. It was then that she began to fear herself.

--_blood, splattering onto a concrete floor_--

She had watched the bird's tiny chest heave for the last time. It died with its dark eyes wide, beak opened as if it was screaming and nobody could hear its pain.

--_violent screaming, then dreadful silence_--

Juuhachigou **hated** the silence. Silence meant pain.

Silence meant she was **alone **with her pain.

Juunanagou had left her alone in the cabin, alone in the silent torture inside her mind. She wanted to talk to him, yell at him, just to know he was nearby. Contrary to the popular belief that twins had a psychic bond, she could **never** sense Juunanagou's thoughts or instinctively know his whereabouts. She needed to **see** him to know where he was--and she needed to see him **now** so she could reassure herself that she wasn't alone in the world, that she wasn't the only one with scars too deep to heal. That's why she had tracked him down after the ordeal with Cell and the dragonballs was over.

But Juunanagou wasn't with her right now; he never needed **her **company. So now she needed to find something else to comfort her, to distract her from her thoughts.

She looked down at the land speeding past below her. There were more roads in this area than further north--more houses, too. The dome-shaped homes were scattered about like mushrooms in a field. Juuhachigou flew on with no real destination in mind, absently noting that the roads became more packed with traffic, and the houses seemed to become larger and closer together. She grew bored with sightseeing, however, and picked up speed to fly back to the cabin.

Juuhachigou's eyes widened with shock as she looked up and saw she was flying straight into a **mirror**.

She banked steeply, zooming up along the reflective wall until it ended. She came to a stop, looked back, and realized that the mirror was only the window-covered side of a high rise building. She relaxed and dropped down to land on the roof of a similar building next to it. She stood among the skyscrapers in the center of the city. Glass and metal shattered the sunlight into a million brilliant points, and the wind carried the fumes of cars and machinery up to the clouds. An endless river of people flowed along the sidewalks, while steadfast trees claimed part of the cement world for themselves. Everywhere she looked, the artificial intertwined with the natural. Juuhachigou immediately felt attracted to this city.

Without a second thought, Juuhachigou leaped off the edge of the building.


	4. Intrusions

**

The Searching:

**

**

Intrusions

**

Bulma stared groggily at the computer monitor, trying to make sense of the numbers and symbols blurring in and out of focus before her eyes. Today some bored nerd had thought it would be fun to hack into the Capsule Corporation network. That in itself wasn't **usually **a problem; somebody was always trying to hack in and gain access to plans and information about the Corporation's products, but they were stopped by a massive computer defense system—the majority of which Bulma had developed personally. It was foolproof.

Or so she thought until today.

Unfortunately, some idiot—who was now an **unemployed** idiot—had somehow concluded that he could improve upon Bulma's ingenious programming. The result was a complete system shutdown, giving free rein to whatever hackers happened to be around at 2:00 in the morning. Within a few minutes, thousands of blueprints, programs, and ideas had been stolen—the possible damage to the Corporation was inestimable.

Not to mention the auditory damage to the poor intern who had to wake up Bulma at 2:14 to alert her to the disaster…

But anger was always an incredible motivator for Bulma. Two hours after the break-in, she had one team of programmers already fixing the damage and another group tracing down the hacker. She wasn't about to let the intruding bastard get away with this blatant theft. No one—**no one**—could steal **her **brilliant ideas, **her** innovative concepts, **her** revolutionary revelations—and expect to live.

She would bust the hacker before the end of the day.

Although it already seemed like today was going to be a very, **very **long day.

Her back ached and her all her joints were stiff from sitting at her workstation for hours, but she was almost finished. She could almost feel the trap begin close around her prey. Only a few more lines of code, only a few more keystrokes before she could send the program on its mission of vengeance. There was no place in cyberspace for that hacking son-of-a-bitch to hide—**she** would find him. She was unstoppable. Her program would explode into his face—literally. The hacker would see a brief message telling him that Capsule Corporation regretted the incident and looked forward to seeing him in court—then his computer would be overloaded and burst into flames.

It was a program Vejita would like—if he were here to see it. The Saiyajin had completely left the planet to do whatever it was that he so desperately needed to do in outer space.

_Maybe I should program the gravity room to self-destruct, _Bulma thought spitefully. _See how he likes **that**!_ She missed her husband much more than she liked to admit to anyone, even herself.

She shook herself and tried to concentrate on her work. If she could only keep her eyes focused on the screen…

Bulma gave up. She rolled back in her desk chair, stretched, and rubbed her eyes. She looked at the clock on the wall above her desk, squinting—it was 11:34. Her tired eyes widened in surprise; she'd been working for almost seven hours without a break. She wondered if her mother was taking care of Trunks, or if the "nanny-bot" she'd made was watching him.

_I hope it's the bot. Mama can be so scatterbrained at times…_

The door opened and Bulma swiveled around in her chair to see who it was. _Speak of the devil,_ she thought with a faint grin as Mrs. Briefs came in carrying Trunks on her hip.

"Honey, are you still working?" Mrs. Briefs asked, mildly concerned. Bulma nodded tiredly.

"Trunks and I ate lunch together," Mrs. Briefs continued, swinging the baby around to face her. Trunks giggled and waved his hands, trying to grab at her blonde curls. "Didn't we have fun, Trunks? Papa was busy too, so we ate all alone! He's been working **all day** with the computers! I don't know what's gotten into him!" 

Bulma sighed wearily and returned to her typing, tuning out her mother's high-pitched voice until it faded into a low droning in the background. She just had to finish up this last string of commands and then revenge would be hers.

_Fear the Wrath of Bulma! _She hit enter and sent the program on its merry path towards destruction._ Take that, you bastard!_

Now that victory was close, she could finally relax. "Let me see him," Bulma said, standing up stiffly to take Trunks into her arms. Mrs. Briefs relinquished her grandson, who gurgled and smiled. Bulma couldn't help but smile back. She held him close, bouncing him up and down. "Mommy's done working for today!" she told him. "Now she can play with you all afternoon, and then she'll take a nap when you take yours. And maybe she won't dream that your Daddy is home for once to take a nap with her…" She stopped, caught off guard by her own words. She suddenly hugged Trunks tightly as if he, the physical result of her bond to Vejita, could pass on the message to his distant father. 

Trunks started getting fussy being cooped up in her arms, so she set him down to crawl around the carpet. He pulled at her shoelaces and tried to put them in his mouth. "He's such a good boy," Mrs. Briefs commented. Bulma arched an eyebrow as she stooped over to detach her son from her shoes. He grabbed hold of her shin and clung to her as she wandered back to her computer to check on the program's progress. 

"He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up! Oh, his first girlfriend!" Mrs. Briefs practically squealed with delight and put her manicured hands to her face. "I'm going to be so jealous! I remember **your** first boyfriend, that wonderfully rugged Yamcha boy. He was so **handsome**! You were so embarrassed when I asked him if he was going to marry you!"

"Mama, please!" The computer beeped, signaling it had found the hacker. Trunks let go of her leg in order to investigate the source of that interesting sound. Bulma's eyes lit up with anticipation. In a few seconds—a minute at most—somebody would literally be feeling the heat and wishing he never heard of Capsule Corporation.

Her mother rambled on obliviously, "Oh, but I'm so glad he didn't marry you! Vejita is **much** better looking! And stronger! Trunks is going to be just as handsome and strong as his father, and as beautiful and smart as his mother! Ooh, what a wonderful grandson I have!"

Just then Trunks pulled out the plug of the computer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As much as she loved her son, Bulma could have committed infanticide at that moment.****

But instead of killing anyone, she merely cursed and yelled and threw blunt objects at the wall. Her mom quickly carried Trunks to safety in his nursery and suggested Bulma go downstairs for a cup of coffee.

On her way down the hall, the doorbell chimed just as she was passing the front door. Bulma hesitated, momentarily considering whether she should let one of the house-bots answer it or open the door herself. Sighing, she mentally cursed the visitor that had come between her and her caffeine, and opened the door.

"What do you want?" she demanded, not caring who the visitor was.

"Hi, Bulma. Nice to see you, too."

She started at the familiar voice and actually looked at the man standing on her doorstep. He was short and wore khakis and a plain white shirt. He had uncombed black hair hanging into his eyes and a gruff beard like that of an island castaway, but the wide, emotional eyes hidden in his rough face gave away his identity.

"Hello, Kuririn!"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." Bulma opened the door wider, and Kuririn picked up his suitcases. "Do you want some coffee?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuririn sat on the couch, feeling the warmth of the coffee through the mug in his hands. He watched Bulma as she gulped down her third cup. She had changed her hairstyle again. Her blue hair was crimped into delicately frizzy waves that hovered just above her shoulders. Her face looked tired, her shoulders appeared stiff, and her baggy sweatsuit was rumpled. But when she plunked down her mug on the living room coffee table, she regained the lively spark he had come to expect from her.

"Kuririn, what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing at his head.

He shifted his coffee cup to one hand and ran the other through his hair embarrassedly. He knew she would ask; he had just hoped that she wouldn't. He hid his discomfort with a sheepish laugh. "Um, well, I kinda forgot to shave!" _Best to make a joke out of it…_

She laughed, then stood up and ran her own hand over his hair. He tried not to flinch away. "You look so different! And the beard! You look like a wild man!" She laughed again.

"Um…"

She fell back into the armchair across from him. "I know a great place that could fix up your new look. So how have you been?"

_How have I been?_ _I've been crazy with grief and loneliness, **that's** how I've been! I've been a "wild man" hiding from this sick world where best friends die and innocent girls are turned into machines…_

"I'm alright," he answered.  She looked at him with concern, and he shrunk under her gaze as if she could see through him. Maybe that's why he decided to come here—in the hopes that somebody could understand him and make his life make sense again; he sure didn't know how to figure himself out anymore. The world had tossed him upside down after Goku's death, and now he didn't know which way was up.

"I miss him, too," Bulma told him after a moment of silence.

Kuririn felt the blood leave his face and took a big draught from his coffee cup.

"I never thought he'd ever be gone, not really," she continued, leaning forward and clasping her hands beneath her chin. "Son Goku was always so full of energy, so full of joy at being alive—you wouldn't think someone so physical, so **real** could ever just…pass away." She picked up her empty coffee cup and turned it around in her hands absentmindedly. "The first time, after Radditsu, it was nothing like this. We knew he'd be back again. Son was the hero, the savior of the world—maybe that's when we began to take him for granted."

They sat together in a moment of silence, honoring their friend and hiding their shame.

"So why did you come here, Kuririn?" Bulma asked, bringing them back to the present. She put the cup back on the table and nodded at his two suitcases next to the sofa. "Planning for an extended visit? It's nice to see you again, though."

"I decided to leave Kame Island for a while," he explained. "I was hoping I could stay here until—until I can get a place of my own."

"Ah, you want a girlfriend in the big city, don't you?" she interrupted with a sudden grin. Kuririn blushed and shook his head vehemently. Bulma laughed and tossed a pillow at him. He caught it and conveniently hid his face behind it. "Sorry, I'm married! You can't have me!" Bulma said. "Although it's not like my husband is ever here. I might as well be single…"

He peered over the pillow. "Why? Where is Vejita?" He extended his senses delicately, but couldn't sense the Saiyajin's ki anywhere nearby.

Bulma's mouth twisted derisively as she spoke. "Ha! That man is never home! Whenever he has a problem, he leaves the planet!" Her voice rose as she continued, "Only a day after the Trunks from the future left, what do I hear? A huge boom, and Vejita takes off in a spaceship without so much as a goodbye to his beautiful wife. Hmph. Typical of him." She stood up without meeting Kuririn's eyes and picked up her cup again. "You want some more coffee?"

Kuririn looked at his mug and shook his head. Bulma left to go pour herself another cup. Kuririn sat back against the soft cushioning of the couch and let his eyes wander around the family room. Pictures hung on the walls: photos of Dr. Brief's many pets, some watercolor paintings of animals, and a portrait of the Briefs family when Bulma was young. Kuririn felt an unwarranted jealousy; he had no pictures of a happy childhood—no pictures of a happy family of his own either.

Then he heard Bulma scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuririn ran into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in the doorway. Bulma dropped to her knees next to the unconscious form Dr. Briefs sprawled on the tiled floor. "Papa! Oh my God! PAPA!" 

Kuririn rushed to her side and asked, "What happened?" A little black cat was mewling pitifully by her father's shoulder and Bulma brushed it aside. She unbuttoned his collar, feeling for a pulse on his neck. She bent her head to check for sounds of breathing. She sighed deeply with relief, and explained, "He came in here, looking pale, and suddenly collapsed." She looked up. "Dammit, where the hell is the phone?!" Before Kuririn could offer to help, Bulma jumped up and slapped the intercom button on the wall and shouted, "CALL A DOCTOR **NOW**!" She immediately dropped back to the ground to her father.

Kuririn felt useless. He drifted back to the family room and picked up some pillows, thinking they could use them to prop up Dr. Briefs legs. Wasn't that what they were supposed to do with someone who had fainted? To help the blood flow to the brain? He carried them back to the kitchen only to find that Mrs. Briefs as well as a robot wearing a maid's outfit had joined Bulma. He stood in the door holding his stack of pillows, completely outside the sphere of the family.

Suddenly someone banged into his left shoulder and pushed past him into the kitchen; the doctor had arrived. Two paramedics followed right behind him and succeeded in knocking down two pillows. Kuririn stooped down to pick them up, then lingered for a moment, watching as the doctor's ministrations brought Dr. Briefs back to consciousness. The Briefs women breathed a collective sigh of relief. Bulma hugged her father, and Mrs. Briefs dabbed delicately at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Kuririn left the room to put the pillows back where they belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours passed before anyone remembered Kuririn.

Bulma came into the living room and found him sitting in an armchair, his head hanging forward until his bearded chin touched his chest. She padded across the carpet and bent to peer at his face; he was asleep. She felt a brief pang of guilt for neglecting her friend—but guilt was never a feeling that bothered Bulma for long.

She grasped his shoulder. "Kuririn."

He moved his head and mumbled in his sleep. Bulma shook him gently. "Wake up, Kuririn!"

He blinked, then jerked up. "Wha—where—?" His eyes flicked about wildly, disoriented until they found and focused on Bulma. She hid a grin as he self-consciously wiped away a little drool from the corner of his mouth. "How's your dad?" he asked.

"Fine. He's resting in bed right now. The doctor said he was only hypoglycemic from skipping his meals today. We had to deal with a hacker and fix the entire computer system." She sighed and stretched her arms above her head. "It's been a long day, and it's still not over."

"I'm glad he's okay, though," Kuririn said and stood up.

"Yeah. He scared us for a moment back there." _Papa is getting old—so is Mama—so am I. Oh, Vejita, where the hell are you? I'll be an old hag by the time you get back…_

"Um," Kuririn said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked at him and he gestured helplessly at his suitcases. "Where should I put them?"

She raked a hand through her hair. "Oh, I forgot all about that! Between the intruder this morning and Papa's fainting—not to mention Trunks!—I've lost any rational thought I had left. Come with me, I'll show you the guest room upstairs."

Bulma picked up one suitcase, while Kuririn took the other, and they walked out of the room together.


	5. Urbanization

**Author's Note**_:_ Thanks to all the wonderful people who have been proofreading (ALEX!!! I owe you!) and offering me encouragement, especially all the nice people who left helpful reviews! The end of this chapter may seem like useless filler stuff, but trust me, it's there for a reason. 

**NOTICE**: This chapter contains a scene with someone jumping from a skyscraper, the destruction of a downtown building, and the deaths of innocent people. This was written before September 11.  This may seem in poor taste, so I apologize.

**

The Searching:

**

**

Urbanization

**

Something was falling from the sky.  At first it was just a small speck, but the shape rapidly grew larger on its downward plunge.  Someone looked up and uttered a cry of terror, prompting the other people on the street and sidewalks to glance upwards curiously and gasp in alarm.

A **woman **was falling from the sky.

The people who had noticed her jostled against each other, a disturbance in the normal flow of pedestrian traffic, and gaped at the falling woman with a mixture of fascination and horror.  Some tried to push their way out of the crowd to avoid the gory mess that would certainly follow, while others fought for a clearer view of the woman and the place she would hit.  "We've got a jumper!" a man called out, drawing even more people to the scene.

Juuhachigou saw the cluster of people gawking up at her and consciously slowed her descent.  A collective gasp of surprise hissed through the crowd.

A second later, Juuhachigou landed lightly on her feet on the sidewalk.  She brushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, evaluating the circle of morbid spectators standing around her.  She mentally dismissed them and began to walk down the sidewalk.  The crowd automatically made way for her, then drew back together in her wake and trailed a few feet behind her, pointing and talking in hushed voices.

Juuhachigou stopped and turned around, fixing each of them with her cold blue eyes.  "What?"

A businessman with brown hair spoke up nervously, "How did you do that?"  Juuhachigou stared at him.

"I mean—you fell from—up there," he continued, pointing at the skyscraper Juuhachigou had jumped off only a moment before.  "You—you're not hurt?"

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly as she replied, "No."

"So—you're like a stunt person?" the man asked hopefully.  The others looked around for hidden movie cameras and muttered among themselves.

"Idiot." Juuhachigou closed her eyes as if the man's stupidity was painful to look at.

The man breathed a sigh of relief, taking her response as a sign that it was obvious she **had** to be a stuntwoman.  The people around him nodded knowingly and began to leave, bored now that the show was over.  "Oh, that's okay then!  It was nice to meet you!" he added as he went on his way.  Juuhachigou stood quietly as the movement of people around her returned to normal.

"Could please we have your autograph?"

Juuhachi's eyes snapped open.  Two young women, a blonde and a brunette in matching blue business suits, were each offering her a pen and a little notepad.  "We've never met a female stuntman before!" said the brunette.  "Stunt**woman**, you mean!" the blonde corrected, elbowing her companion.  Eyebrows raised, Juuhachigou took the pen and paper from her, then hesitated; she didn't know what to write.

The women thought she had paused in order to think of an elaborate message to put on the autograph.  "Oh, that's quite all right, just sign your name!" the blonde said with a smile.

_Just sign my name?_

The pen trembled in Juuhachi's hand.

_I don't have a **name**!_

The women waited expectantly.

_All I have is—a **number**—_

Juuhachigou hastily scribbled "#18" on each notepad and returned the pen, then turned on her heel and walked away.

" 'Number 18'?" she heard one woman ask the other.  "Now what's **that** supposed to mean?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Juuhachigou wandered through the city, simply following the will of the crowd without caring where she went, just observing everything and everyone around her.  She had landed in the business district of the city, but as she walked on, the high office buildings and banks slowly gave way to huge department stores and little shops with noisy street-side cafes.  There were also fewer businesspeople in this area; she no longer stood out in her casual clothing, and no witnesses of her spectacular arrival followed her anymore.  No one paid her any attention; no one cared if she didn't have a name, or a past, or a completely human body—she was just another face in the crowd. She was no longer alone; the noise, the people, the entire city comforted her.

As she wandered, Juuhachi's eyes roved over the window displays of the stores she passed; each store proudly touted its fashions as the latest must-have trend.  After a while, though, they all seemed to blur together into a bright rainbow of fabric, the same clothes repeated over and over, differing only in color.

Suddenly she came to stop in front of a place called Schinky's Boutique; there, in the window stood a fashion dummy wearing a black miniskirt and a blue tank top with a sheer blouse over it.  Juuhachigou suddenly wanted that outfit.  Following the impulse, she pushed open the door and stepped into the cool interior, breathing in the faint smell of leather and polyester.  Soft piano music played throughout the store.  A few other shoppers were browsing through the clothes and ignored her completely.  Juuhachi smiled slightly; she was beginning to enjoy this freedom of anonymity.

"Good afternoon.  How may I help you, ma'am?" A saleslady with tightly braided green hair approached her.  She wore huge gold earrings that dangled to her shoulders, and she kept touching them as if to make sure they wouldn't get caught on her shirt and rip her ears off.

"I want that outfit." Juuhachi pointed at the dummy in the window.

The saleslady sized up Juuhachi with practiced eyes, nodded, and said, "I'm sure a size 8 will fit perfectly.  Follow me, ma'am."

The lady led her through a maze of clothing racks, snatching up hangers here and there.  Finally they reached the dressing room, and the saleslady handed her an armful of clothes.  "I'll be right outside if you need any assistance," she said, but ran off to find another customer as soon as Juuhachi went in.

Juuhachigou hung up the various hangers on a hook inside the dressing room.  The piano music was louder in here than in the rest of the store.  Juuhachi listened to it for a moment, feeling slightly relieved; the dreaded silence couldn't follow her here. 

She undressed and changed into the new outfit without glancing in the mirror.  Tugging the hem of the skirt a little, Juuhachi looked down at herself.  The skirt was snug, but comfortable, and the shirt and blouse fit nicely.  She finally hazarded a peek at the mirror; the saleslady had been right, a size 8 did fit her well.  A smile flitted across her lips.

Juuhachi put on her old cowboy boots and tucked her other clothes under her arm.  She walked out of the dressing room in her new outfit, feeling pleased.  As she headed for the door, however, an alarm went off and two salespeople—the green-haired woman and a tall, skinny man—rushed over.  Some curious shoppers looked over to see what the fuss was about. 

"Where do you think you're going?!" shouted the man, whose nametag made him the store's manager.

"Out," replied Juuhachi.  Someone turned off the alarm, and the piano music came back on, but by now the entire store was staring at the three people by the entrance. 

"You need to pay for those clothes first, ma'am," explained the saleslady.

"No." She felt dozens of pairs of eyes on her and heard whispers branding her a shoplifter, a criminal, a crazy woman, a psycho.

The saleslady played nervously with an earring.  "We can't let you do that, ma'am.  We'll have to call the police."

Juuhachigou put her hand on the door.

"Stop, **thief**!" yelled the manager, and both he and the saleslady leapt at Juuhachi.  The cyborg's blue eyes flared with anger.  She stepped aside and instantly nailed each of them with a swift chop to the back of the neck; the pair slammed to the floor, necks broken.

Juuhachi faced the remaining people in the store. "I will not be labeled by **another** man! Not by any of you!" she shouted. 

Then she turned and stormed outside, where she took to the air, hovering about twenty feet above the store.  She clutched her bundle of clothes tighter and fired a single blast with her free hand.  Schinky's Boutique exploded in a massive fireball, and anything—or anyone—that had the misfortune of standing within a 20-foot radius of the store was incinerated.  

"Never again," she said between clenched teeth. "I'm already—different from you—forever."

By the time the dust settled and the police arrived to the scene, Juuhachi was already flying back to her brother's cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Briefs loved to entertain visitors at Capsule Corporation—especially young **male** visitors.  Today Yamucha had the misfortune of being her involuntary guest.  His car had broken down only a block up the street.  Rather than forking out his admittedly limited money for a tow truck and overpriced mechanic, he'd walked to Capsule Corporation in the hopes Bulma or her dad could fix it up for a much better price.

Now Yamucha was starting to wish he and Dr. Briefs had never pushed the poor car into the Briefs' driveway.  Mrs. Briefs' protocol when entertaining was to seat her visitor in the living room, serve him tea and pastries, then chat amiably until the guest passed out from sheer boredom.

"—so I told him I couldn't **possibly** go out with an **older** man such as him.  I suppose he **was **handsome in a rather gray and wrinkly way—but he just wasn't my type!  He looked old enough to be a grandpapa!  **I **don't look old enough to be a grandmamma, do I?"

"No, Mrs. Briefs.  Not at all."  At least he didn't have to lie; Bulma's mother was still attractive, especially for her age. 

She leaned closer to Yamucha; the scent of perfume wafted towards him.  "Would you believe," she whispered confidingly, "I actually **am** a grandmamma!"  She settled back to let this astounding fact sink in; Yamucha suppressed a sigh and glanced at his watch, wondering how long it would take before his car was done.

"More tea?"

He gritted his teeth into a smile and let Mrs. Briefs pour more tea into his dainty china cup.  Next she offered up a matching china sugar bowl.  "Some more sugar?"

"No.  Thanks."

She looked briefly disappointed, but compensated for his refusal by spooning half the bowl of sugar into her own tea.  "A man as **sweet** as you doesn't need more sugar anyway," she reasoned.  "I wonder why Bulma didn't marry you.  We were just talking about you just the other day!  Are you single?"

Puaru interrupted the conversation with a loud, satisfied burp.  Yamucha carefully kept his expression neutral.  "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Briefs, "The pastries are all gone!"  She picked up the empty tray and excused herself to get some more baked goods from the kitchen.

Yamucha shot a look at Puaru, who was lying on the floor, and both of them burst out laughing.  " 'Scuse me!" squeaked the cat belatedly, setting off another round of laughter.  Then Yamucha heard Mrs. Briefs talking to someone in the hall and—thinking it was Dr. Briefs telling her he was done with the car—motioned Puaru to be quiet.

"—hair is gorgeous, Bulma, darling!" they heard her squeal.  "But—oh! Kuririn!"

_Kuririn?_  "What's **he** doing here?"  Yamucha wondered aloud.  He stood up and walked out to find out for himself; Puaru slowly lifted himself off the floor and floated after him, groaning about the weight of the half-dozen pastries in his stomach.

They found Mrs. Briefs standing just outside the kitchen door, still holding the empty pastry tray, and talking to Bulma and Kuririn about which hair salon they had visited.  Yamucha's eyes widened—the perpetually bald monk had **hair**!  Kuririn's black hair was slicked back except for a few select locks that dangled onto his forehead; it gave him a look of careless sophistication.  Yamucha was so stunned that he completely forgot to greet either him or Bulma until the conversation completely died and he noticed them staring at him.  He blinked and sheepishly said hi.  "I didn't know you were in town, Kuririn," he added.

"I just got here yesterday."

"He's staying here while he looks for a place of his own," Bulma explained.  "You should have seen his hair before!  But Giorgio is an incredible stylist, don't you think?  Thank God you got rid of that beard, Kuririn.  You look years younger!"

"You look good," Yamucha agreed, struggling to picture Kuririn with a beard, and Puaru nodded.  Kuririn grinned and scratched the back of his head embarrassedly.  Mrs. Briefs disappeared into the kitchen.

"Hey!"  Bulma punched Yamucha's shoulder.  "You haven't said anything about **my** new look yet!"

"Huh?"  He turned and looked at her.  Her bangs were swept sideways across her forehead and the rest of her hair was layered and flipped outwards, framing her face.  She smiled at him expectantly and for a moment he remembered why he had loved this girl for so many years.

"It—it looks—" His usual suaveness had left him; he felt like the nervous teenager fresh out of the desert.  He cleared his throat.  "You look beautiful—as always."  He grinned widely.

She looked at him suspiciously.  "Why are **you **here anyway?"  Mrs. Briefs came back out of the kitchen, minus the tray, the pastries forgotten.

"My car broke down."

Bulma arched an eyebrow and glanced at her mother for confirmation.  "Papa is working on it right now," stated Mrs. Briefs.

Bulma responded, "I better go help him out so we get Yamucha out of here as soon as possible."  Yamucha gave her a pained look, but she ignored it.

"Show him Kuririn's new haircut, honey," Mrs. Briefs suggested.

"Fine.  C'mon, Kuririn."

Yamucha, Kuririn, and Puaru trailed a little behind Bulma as they walked outside.

"Hey, Kuririn, you doing anything tonight?"  Yamucha asked.

"No.  Why?"

"He wants you to go on a date with him because all the girls have turned him down," Bulma remarked snidely.  Yamucha reddened, but let the comment go.

"I'm going out with my **girl**," he explained to Kuririn, aware that Bulma was listening.  "I was wondering if you'd care to join us and see how we party in the Western Capital?  Her roommate is single." He winked.

Bulma snorted, but Kuririn's eyes lit up.  "Sure!" he replied.  "You wanna come to, Bulma?" he asked good-naturedly.

She just laughed and walked faster.


	6. City Girls

**Author's note:**Please note that this was originally written **before **September 11, when news coverage of destroyed buildings in cities wasn't common. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my cousin David, so that we may never forget those who died in the terrorist attacks.

The stories must go on...

**The Searching:**

**City Girls**

  


Yamucha picked up Kuririn a little after 8:30 p.m.

"You look sharp," Yamucha grinned as Kuririn climbed into the car. Kuririn looked down at his clothes--black shirt, loose black pants--and tried to return the grin without the nervousness he felt. He surreptitiously examined Yamucha's attire and decided simple black was better than the gaudy, shiny blue shirt his friend wore.

"Where exactly are we going?" Kuririn asked, fastening his seat belt. He smoothed his shirt and hoped it wouldn't wrinkle.

"Well," began Yamucha, pulling into traffic, "We'll meet the girls for drinks at The Sag and then all hit Club Z for the night. You ever been to a club, Kuririn?"

Kuririn shot him a slightly resentful look as he replied, "Yeah, with Marron. She liked to dance." _With other men, mostly,_ he added silently.

"Oh. Well. Korynna and Gigi love to dance, too. I'm sure you and Gigi will hit it off--she's a great girl. She definitely knows how to go dow--**get** down." Kuririn pretended not to notice the slip of tongue; Yamucha laughed and turned up the radio.

They drove on without speaking, Yamucha concentrating on the traffic but humming along with the music. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Look, there's The Sag!" He pointed at an adobe building surrounded by fake cacti decorated with Christmas lights. A huge neon sign supported by two red cacti on the roof declared that the name of "The Sag" was actually "El Saguaro Rojo." Yamucha swerved into the parking lot and pulled into one of the few vacant spaces.

Kuririn opened his door, but waited for Yamucha to finish checking his hair in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, let's go!" Yamucha announced, and they got out of the car.

They walked into the bar; Kuririn trailed a step behind Yamucha, feeling unsure of his surroundings. The place was busy, but lively Tejano music could still be heard over the din of clinking glasses and raucous conversation. Yamucha was scanning the crowd; he lightly punched Kuririn's arm to get his attention. "Over there," he said, nodding his head. Kuririn had no idea where he meant, but silently followed his friend across the room to two women who were sitting at a table for four, sipping cocktails and talking.

"Heeeeeeyyyy, chicas!" Yamucha said as they approached the table, obviously trying to work with the Latino atmosphere; the women rolled their eyes. He grabbed Kuririn around the shoulders with one arm and used his other hand to gesture as he made introductions: "Girls, meet my buddy Kuririn! Kuririn, meet Korynna and Gigi!"

"Hi," mumbled Kuririn. The girls smiled and beckoned for them to sit down. Yamucha promptly ordered two beers and began talking about Kuririn's recent arrival to the city. Kuririn used the opportunity to look closer at the two women he would be spending the evening with. Korynna had dark skin and her black hair was swept into an intricate bun. Her big dark eyes were focused primarily on Yamucha; Yamucha, on the other hand, seemed to focus mostly on the cleavage her gold tube top emphasized. Kuririn turned his gaze to the other woman, who seemed to be almost the exact physical opposite of her friend. Gigi was light-skinned, blue-eyed, with blonde hair to her shoulders. She wore a black vinyl vest, buttoned so that it flirtatiously revealed a hint of her silver bra. _She looks sorta like Juuhachigou, _thought Kuririn, but he quickly told himself **not **to think about the cyborg for the rest of the evening. He was going to get over her, and he would start **now**. He concentrated on Gigi and wondered if she was trying to get over some ex-love of her own.

Gigi was listening to Yamucha, but her eyes flicked restlessly around the room, watching the crowd. Suddenly her eyes met Kuririn's, and she asked, "How do you like it here?"

He blushed, afraid she had caught him staring at her. "Um…it's great," he stammered.

"What do you do for a living?" Korynna asked. A waiter came and plunked the two beers down on the table; Kuririn stared at the bottles.

"He's a martial artist," Yamucha replied for him; the girls nodded appreciatively. Suddenly, Yamucha lifted his beer into the air and proposed a toast; the girls raised their glasses. Kuririn hastily grabbed his beer and held it up. 

"To friendship and fun!" Yamucha declared with a cheesy grin. 

"To friendship and fun," they repeated and everyone took a drink. Kuririn hesitated, the bottle a millimeter from his mouth. He had never thought much of drinking; childhood memories of alcoholics still lingered. It was hard to enjoy alcohol after the countless times the head monk at the monastery got drunk and took it out on the weakest novice--Kuririn. Plus, alcohol and martial arts never seemed like a wise combination considering the many life-or-death battles Kuririn constantly wound up in. 

But there had to be a reason people were attracted to alcohol to take their minds of things--even if the escape was temporary. Besides, Kuririn would never fight again if he could help it. He would not allow himself to be pulled into violent battles with monsters, with artificial humans, with Saiyajin, with **anyone**! He wanted to forget it all and tonight he would try his best to do so.

But that also meant forgetting Juuhachigou, Goku, all the things he had once valued…

_To friendship and fun! _he thought bitterly and took a brave swallow of his beer, but the guilty taste in his mouth remained. 

"Speaking of fun," Gigi said, "Can we ditch this place and hit the club?" There were murmurs of agreement. Korynna and Yamucha finished their drinks and stood up; Kuririn left his beer half-full on the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Club Z had once been the hippest dance spot of the Western Capital, but as newer, bigger clubs were constructed over the years, it had turned into a refuge for clubbers who valued its intimacy, a kind of secret tip among friends who wanted to share a good time.

It was dark inside, but sporadic bursts of colorful light--red, green, pink, yellow, blue--shot out from the dance floor. Kuririn stumbled, accidentally bumping into Korynna, his eyes still unused to the darkness. He apologized but could barely hear his own voice over the music, the heavy droning beat vibrating through the floor up into their bodies. Yamucha slid an arm around Korynna's waist and they disappeared into the crowd. Kuririn felt lost--the lights, the noise, the proximity of so many warm human bodies overwhelmed him.

Suddenly a cool hand grabbed his own; he looked up to see Gigi. "C'mon, let's dance!" she shouted, tugging at him. She pulled him after her onto the crowded dance floor. They found a space in the mass of dancers and she began to wave her arms and swing her hips in a kind of tribal warrior dance defending their little area of the dance floor. "C'mon! Move it!" she yelled at him, grinning. He grinned back and tried to get a feel for the rhythm; Gigi laughed and spun around, eyes closed in the dizzy joy of dancing. She was beautiful, the way she moved…

Kuririn closed his eyes and felt the beat of the music pounding in his rib cage, replacing the beat of his heart--out here, life was an illusion, only the movement of the body, the lights, the music mattered.

So he danced.

He danced on as the music changed, became slower, sped up again--as the lights flared rainbows on the faces around him--as the girl came closer, wrapped herself around him--as the sweat ran down their bodies--as long as the music went on, they would dance.

Gigi was softly pressed against his damp shirt, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her hips, guiding each other until they moved in sync. Her blue eyes darted around the room, as they had at the bar earlier, meeting his only when he least expected it--he thirsted to drink the cool blue in those eyes--a cool blue like--

_Juuhachigou._

The word came to his mind like a faintly remembered dream, and he did not know what it meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 3:30 a.m. and Bulma was wide awake.

_At least Kuririn is out having fun! _she thought resentfully, although she knew she shouldn't care. She wondered if Kuririn would even come home before dawn; Yamucha usually didn't…__

She closed the book she had been trying to read for the past three hours--she couldn't remember a single word of it--and threw it down on the empty side of her bed. She glared at the pillow where Vejita usually laid his head. **_Everyone_**_ has left me!_

"Stupid men," she muttered, and punched his pillow.

She got out of bed, sliding her feet into her fuzzy purple slippers on the floor, and went to check on the only male in her life who hadn't--yet--abandoned her. Trunks was sound asleep, sucking on his thumb and drooling on his pillow. She smiled; it was a mother's obsession, reassuring herself that her child is still with her. Bulma bent down and kissed her son's soft cheek before leaving the nursery.

Once in the hallway, she had a sudden craving for the pint of Raspberry Sorbet in the freezer. She had bought it just a week ago, deciding she deserved to do something for herself occasionally. She padded down the darkened stairs; the house was completely silent. 

_Tchak._

Bulma froze, her heart dropping into her stomach.

_Tchak. Skreeek. Clink!_

It sounded like someone was rummaging around in the kitchen. She pressed herself against the wall, gliding silently down the stairs. It couldn't be her parents--they were practically unconscious an hour after they took their sleeping pills. It had to be an intruder! _But who could get past the security system? _She was obviously dealing with a skilled criminal. Bulma looked around hastily for some kind of weapon; she picked up an umbrella that was leaning against the wall by the coat rack at the bottom of the stairs.

She stopped right next to the open kitchen door, heart pounding. Whoever was inside hadn't turned on the light; she could make out strange slurping noises inside. Swallowing her terror, Bulma leapt into the doorway with a battle cry that would have made a Saiyajin proud and flipped on the lights, brandishing her umbrella.

The umbrella flew open with the force of her thrust; Bulma abruptly lowered it as she recognized who was in the kitchen.

"Vejita--"

He was sitting at the round kitchen table, all the food he could find spread out before him. He looked at her and her laughable weapon, then calmly slurped up a bowl of Ramen noodles. The umbrella fell, unnoticed, from her grip. She walked over and slammed her fists on the table. "Where the **hell **have **you **been?" she demanded. 

He smirked at her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then deliberately reached for a small container of ice cream on the table with the rest of his meal.

**Her **container of ice cream…

"Give me back my Raspberry Sorbet!" she shrieked and dove across the table, seizing the container; it was slippery with condensation. Vejita pulled it away from her and casually walked to a drawer to get a spoon. Bulma lunged at him and grabbed hold of the container again. Vejita held onto it with only one hand, taunting her, letting her try to pull it away from him. His mouth was set in its usual half-frown, but his eyes were laughing at her. "Give it back!" she yelled, clinging on like a stubborn child. She yanked at the sorbet with all her might and suddenly found herself backed against the wall. "GIVE IT BACK!" she shouted again, realizing she had lost.

"Shut up, woman," he said softly, leaning over her. "Do you want to wake the entire house?" 

Bulma slid down to the floor, seeing a chance to escape, but before she could crawl away Vejita had dropped to one knee and gripped her shoulders, roughly pushing her back against the wall and letting the sorbet container roll away under the kitchen table.

"You bastard!" she hissed, tears stinging her eyes. Her curse implied all the reasons she was angry with him; the corner of his mouth turned up in cocky acknowledgment of his wrongdoings. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against hers, their noses touching. His dark eyes looked at her, and she felt her chest tighten painfully. 

"You bastard," she repeated, more gently now, and tangled her fingers in his scruffy hair, feeling his breath on her face and the warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuririn woke up because he thought somebody had punched him.

Actually, he discovered, he had only rolled off the couch and hit the floor. He lay there, staring at the worn blue carpet beneath him and wondering where he had landed. He slowly sat up and stretched, then massaged his temples; a dull, throbbing pain had found a home inside his skull. He had a foul taste in his mouth, like he hadn't brushed his teeth last night.

_Last night..?_

His memory came rushing back now: the bar, the club, the endless hours spent dancing with Gigi. Afterwards, they had all gone to the girls' apartment, so exhausted they could not sleep. Korynna brought out some wine coolers and her old karaoke machine, so they greeted the dawn by belting out off-key songs and laughing their heads off. At some point, Yamucha and Korynna had disappeared into a bedroom, leaving Gigi and Kuririn alone in the living room. Kuririn had brought up this absurd idea of marrying Gigi, but she merely laughed and kept him from considering any further crazy notions by kissing him for a while.

He couldn't remember falling asleep on the couch though...maybe he had hit his head when he fell off? _That would explain the headache_, he decided naively.

Kuririn looked around, without getting up from the floor. The light coming through the window cut through his bleary eyes and battered the inside of his skull; he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Judging from the brightness, it was well past morning but everyone else was still asleep, it seemed. He settled back against the couch; his hand strayed across a remote lying on the floor beside him, so he turned on the television, for lack of anything else to do.

"--special report, with correspondent Dan Manford live at the scene--" the news anchor blared.

"Turn down the freaking TV!" Korynna yelled from somewhere in the apartment, probably the bedroom. Kuririn flinched and hurriedly lowered the volume.

"--investigation continues into the tragic bombing of a women's clothing store in the city of Chamomile that occurred two days ago, killing 19 people and severely injuring 3 others." The camera showed a small crater in the middle of a downtown shopping area; police were keeping weeping onlookers back behind a fence. "No terrorist group has claimed responsibility for this attack on a politically unimportant boutique. A connection with the mob is suspected. Back to you, Angela."

The camera switched back to the news anchor. "Thanks, Dan. Investigators have released an amateur video shot by a man filming a birthday party up on the rooftop gardens of his apartment building, capturing footage of the explosion." The man's recording showed static and shaking for a moment, then panned and focused in on a cloud of smoke and debris rising in the middle of the city. The camera zoomed in on a small blurred dot that was moving rapidly away from the explosion; Kuririn's eyes widened as he realized it was a human figure. "Analysis of the video has revealed some type of small, airborne vehicle was used in the attack. All leads are being followed. In other news today--"

Kuririn turned off the TV.

He leaned his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. _"Airborne vehicle" indeed!_ _That was definitely a person flying! _He wondered who it could have been, since not **that** many people in this world knew how to fly, let alone could cause such powerful destruction. _No way it was Gohan or Piccolo. Even Vejita wouldn't do that, assuming he was back. Besides, who would even be in a women's boutique, let alone blow it up..? Chichi doesn't have that kind of ki control...Bulma definitely doesn't...so who?_

The answer came to him in a flash that left him dizzy and sweating:Juuhachigou.__

The implications terrified him. 

Trunks, from the future, had warned them of the destruction the cyborgs would bring to the world. Was it starting now? 

They thought they had saved their own future, but maybe they--maybe **he**--had made a mistake by bringing the cyborgs back to life after Cell. The current scenario sounded all too familiar from Trunks' account of the future: Goku was dead, the fighters were separated, and two cyborgs were preparing a rampage of death and destruction.

"Good morning, Kuririn," said Gigi.

Kuririn turned as Gigi sat down on the couch, wearing a bathrobe, her hair dripping as if she had just taken a shower. The irony of her greeting made him laugh--a strange, hollow sound almost like a sob. He knew what he had to do now. "I have to leave," he told her and stood up. "Before it's too late. Before the world ends."

"What?"

"I have to leave," he repeated, walking to the window. He slid it open, letting in the noise and fumes of the traffic below. His head felt extraordinarily clear as he climbed up onto the ledge. Behind him, he vaguely heard Gigi scream and Yamucha yell his name, but he didn't care anymore; he was flying away.

He had to stop Juuhachigou--that was all that mattered.


	7. Overflow

**Author's Note: **Sorry, everyone, for leaving you at that cliffhanger from the last chapter so long! Forgive me! Here's a new chapter, with another appearance by Juunana and his ax (he takes off some clothes, too! *_*). Plus, more angst for Kuri-kun! But we're nearing the end--please stick with me, it'll be possibly one or two more chapters (and then an epilogue, to match the prologue). 

**The Searching:**

**Overflow**

  


Kuririn pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the chain-link fence that had been erected around the disaster to keep the onlookers out of the way of the clean-up crew. The disaster area in downtown Chamomile looked much worse in person than it appeared on television. A massive crater was blown into the ground where Schinky's Boutique had stood only days earlier. Dirty brown water pooled in the center of the giant hole. Hunks of concrete and dirt lay about like pebbles scattered by a giant child. Broken pipes and wiring poked through the debris, forcing the cleanup workers to move carefully for fear of electrocution. Dusty shreds of clothing clung to some of the rubble, a sad testimony to both the store and the lives ruined by this act of violence. Kuririn trembled as his eyes took in the scene. _Juuhachigou, _his mind shrieked at him. _ Juuhachigou did **this**! Juuhachigou! JUUHACHIGOU!_

"Oh, dear God," Kuririn whimpered. His fingers gripped the fence so tightly that the wire began to bend and break. He abruptly let go and stared at his hands--hands that had fought evil most of his life, yet hands that had also carried Juuhachigou's inert body to safety. Once again, the guilt flooded his soul: _If I had killed her, this would never have happened. _

He would have to use these same hands to stop her; that would be his penance.

"Excuse me," a male voice said softly. Kuririn reflexively moved aside as an old man dressed in black stepped up to the fence. He attached a photo of a smiling, young, green-haired woman to the fence, then stuck a red rose through the links beside it. He bowed his head and tears fell from his wrinkled face to the ground.

Kuririn felt bile rise inside him with shame and guilt. _My fault…_

"I'm--sorry!" he choked out, tears streaming from his dark eyes. The old man looked up, his own face wet, and turned up his lips in a smile full of pain and compassion. He put a weathered hand on Kuririn's shoulder and squeezed it.

"Did you lose someone, too?" the man asked. Kuririn's eyes widened.

"Yes," he answered. "Yes, I have." He removed the old man's hand from his shoulder, bowed respectfully, then wandered back into the crowd. As he walked away from the ruins of the shop--the ruins of so many lives--it began to rain. Kuririn shoved his hands into the pockets of his black pants; he hadn't thought to change clothes before flying away from the Western Capital. His clothes were filthy, and he felt dirty to the core of his being, knowing he had once saved the life of a mass murderer.

The rain came down heavier, and Kuririn stopped to look up, wondering if the heavens were trying to wash him clean again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Plip. Plip. Plittaplit._

Juuhachigou shivered in the dark, watching the blood trickle onto the cement floor.

_Plip-plip. Plip-plip._

It dripped faster and the puddle began to pool towards her. She tried to back away, but scraped her bare shoulders against a cold, rough stone wall. She was naked--but the long scar on her body was absent.

_Plip-plop-plippaplip!_

The dark red blood splattered on her; it was hot on her icy skin. Suddenly metal hands reached out of the darkness and yanked her up. "No, let me go!" she shrieked. "LET ME GO!" The hands dumped her onto a metal table and pinned her down; she tossed her head back and forth, still struggling even though the rest of her body was restrained.

_Plip-plop. Plippaplop._

Blood dripped from the table next to her. Her eyes widened: a body lay there, connected to countless wires and tubes, covered with blood. "What have you done to my **brother**?" she gasped. A pair of glowing blue eyes appeared in the dark above her. "The same thing I'm going to do to you," a familiar voice answered. "I making you both **better**."

Then something cut into her flesh and--

Juuhachigou woke up in her bed, alone.

_Plop. Plippaplop. Plip-plop. _

A damp stain was spreading slowly over her comforter where a liquid was dripping on it. She held out a hand and caught the droplets; they were clear, not red. There was no blood here--only water, leaking through the ceiling over where she lay. She could hear the rain drumming on the roof.

There was no blood. She was okay. _But in the dream--_

She peered underneath her shirt; the scar was still there. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His ax had more than one use, Juunanagou discovered. Not only could it cut down trees, but it could also cut down a giant bear that had been angered at the destruction of its forest. Despite the rain, Juunanagou smiled as he dragged the headless carcass through the mud with one hand, while the other carried his treasured ax. Killing with weapons like a normal human was always much more entertaining than zapping someone with energy.

He reached his home and dumped the dead animal on the front porch, out of the rain. The brown fur was damp, muddy, and blood-crusted, but he would clean it up and use it as a rug, perhaps. And he would eat the meat--**all** of it. Just like a normal man. Maybe he could even convince Juuhachigou to have a bite or two, just so she would stop being so **different **all the time--so aggravatingly non-human. His sister simply did not know how to enjoy life; she preferred to lurk about the cabin, wasting her time staring blankly at a dripping water faucet or out the kitchen window. He seemed to be the only one who understood how to have fun.

He wondered how one actually went about skinning a bear. Maybe he should wait until the rain stopped.

The front door swung open and Juuhachigou came out onto the porch. "Juunana--" Then she halted, her eyes wide. He realized she was staring at his chest, so he looked down. His black Red Ribbon shirt was soaked by the rain, as was most of his clothing. But the bear's blood, although invisible on the dark shirt, had stained his undershirt, his jeans, and even his hands crimson.

"Blood," Juuhachigou whispered.

"Yeah, I know I'm messy," he agreed, "but look at this guy! Chopped his head off with my ax!" He brandished the bloodied tool proudly, then twirled it in the air and stuck it into the wooden railing of the porch.

"Blood," Juuhachigou repeated softly.

"Fine, I'll clean up before I go inside," Juunanagou muttered, untying his bandana and pulling his filthy shirts over his head; he draped the soggy clothing over the porch railing. He ran his fingers through his tangled black locks and squeezed water from them. The drops splattered onto the porch: _plita plit plat plip._

"No, stop it," Juuhachigou whimpered.

"What?" A black eyebrow arched as he noted Juuhachigou's strange behavior; he couldn't remember her ever sounding so--fragile.

"Stop the blood," she pleaded softly, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. "I can't stop it, it's too late!" Her voice rose. "Too late, too late, he got you he got you he got you he got us both he got us--"

Juunanagou stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, shaking her, and she stopped babbling. She stared at him.

"He got us and we'll never be the same again," she stated.

"What are you talking about?" Even as he uttered the question something in his guts lurched; he **knew** the answer.

"Don't you see?" she asked, her voice still tinged with hysteria. She jabbed a finger at his bare chest. "This! See **this**!" Juunanagou looked down again; her fingertip was on the beginning of the long scar that ran down his chest and stomach. A thought surfaced in the back of his mind, trying to claw its way to his consciousness, but he smothered it before it could bring him pain. "Don't you see it?" his sister shrieked. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"No. I don't see it. What I don't see can't bother me." He closed his eyes. "It's not real."

Games of make-believe are best played **alone**…

He didn't see it coming, standing there with his eyes closed, but the impact would stay in his mind for years afterward. Juuhachigou punched him in the stomach. Hard.

He hit the ground a mile away, skidding through the mud until he banged to a stop against a boulder. He was too stunned to get up right away--stunned by the blow that had caught him offguard, stunned by the fact that his sister had delivered it.

When he finally returned to the cabin, Juuhachigou was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yamucha hated hysterics. So it hadn't been too hard for him to leave Korynna and Gigi back at the apartment after Kuririn had "jumped" out of the window. The girls clung to each other, weeping about the "suicide", and stubbornly refused to accept his explanation about ki-controlled flying. He couldn't even convince them to look outside and see that no body lay on the ground. Finally, Yamucha decided the best cure for their condition was to climb out the same window and float. The girls panicked and screamed at him to leave them alone, as if he were a monster. Angered, Yamucha was glad to comply with their wishes. He landed in the parking lot and got into his car. Driving attracted less attention than flying around the city, obviously.

He went to Capsule Corporation to see if Kuririn had gone there. Dr. Briefs opened the door. Yamucha lied and said that Kuririn had asked him to deliver his things to an apartment he'd found. Bulma's father nodded and showed him to Kuririn's room. Yamucha asked to speak with Bulma, but was informed that she was still in bed. So he left and picked up Puaru at the apartment they shared.

Then he, the cat, and the suitcases drove a few hours in the general direction of Kuririn's ki, which led them to the city of Chamomile.

"He's got to be here somewhere," Yamucha muttered as the car waited at a red light. Puaru nodded, too entranced by the movement of the windshield wipers to say anything. Yamucha tried to pinpoint Kuririn's ki, but he was out of practice--besides, it was difficult to sense a specific person in an urban area. A car honked behind them.

"Light's green," Puaru observed belatedly.

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Yamucha and drove through the intersection.

Suddenly he felt it--_Kuririn! _The ki was clearly his; he had to be nearby. Yamucha slammed on the brakes and yelled at Puaru: "Get out of the car! He's around here somewhere!" The cat immediately rolled down the window and floated out into the downpour. The car in back of him honked again, so Yamucha pulled into an empty parking space a few yards up the street. He got out--narrowly missing a passing car--and ran down the sidewalk, splashing heedlessly through the puddles. He spotted Puaru floating above a short man who had to be Kuririn. The man was talking to the cat, but he turned as Yamucha approached. His hair was plastered wetly to his head, his face was haggard, and his soaked clothes clung to his body. He looked like death personified, pale and dressed in black.

_Geez, has he been out here the whole time? _Yamucha wondered. _What happened to him?_

"Why are you guys here?" Kuririn asked.

_To rescue you from yourself, my friend_. "To find out why you had to leave in such a hurry," Yamucha replied. "But let's discuss that someplace **dry**. I don't like standing in the rain!" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating where he parked. "I'm sure we can find a decent hotel or something. Come on. We've got your suitcases in the car." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuririn sat with Yamucha and Puaru in the diner next door to the Sweet Suites Hotel, where they had checked into a room for the night. Kuririn had no appetite for food at the moment, but Yamucha was forcing him to eat some pizza anyway. The food was hot, his clean clothes were dry, but all the comfort of the world couldn't get rid of the cold pain inside him. Still, Kuririn was grateful that his friends had found him--but also ashamed. They probably thought he was crazy.

_They're probably right, though._

Yamucha took a bite of a pineapple-and-ham pizza slice, swallowed, then asked the inevitable question: "Why did you come here?"

Kuririn stalled by taking a sip of his soda, but Yamucha and Puaru gazed expectantly at him. _Better to tell it flat out. _"I have to find Juuhachigou," he stated.

"What?" Yamucha laughed; it hurt Kuririn even more. "You've still got a crush on her? Oh man! So that's why you had to leave Gigi so fast--you didn't want to be unfaithful! That's great, really! But why do you think you'll find her here?" Puaru giggled.

"It's not like that," Kuririn answered, trying to keep a tremor out of his voice. He buried his face in his hands. "She blew up a store downtown--I know it. She killed people. So I have to find her because it's my fault."

"Your fault?"

"Yeah. I saved her life, remember?"

Yamucha was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "So what will you do if you find her?"

Kuririn lifted his head. "I'll--" He hesitated. "I'll--" He stared down at the table.

_I'll kill her._

But there was no way he could do that. He wasn't strong enough, even if Yamucha joined him.

_So I'll let her kill **me**._

_That will be the punishment for my sin._

"I'll die," he said simply, not looking up. "That will be enough."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yamucha felt the world shift the moment Kuririn uttered his death wish. It was one of those rare moments where he **knew **that whatever he did next would take him into one future and close off another forever. _Death is not an option,_ he decided immediately. But, honestly, Yamucha could not say he liked Juuhachigou. She was a machine programmed to kill, plus she had a lousy personality and she wasn't particularly good-looking either. Why Kuririn was so attracted to her, Yamucha could not imagine--but even though Kuririn denied it, it obviously was an **attraction**. It didn't matter what motive Kuririn had for chasing after Juuhachigou, whether it was repressed romantic feelings, a perverted sense of responsibility, or simply a desire to be relieved of the burdens of life. The problem was that he was obsessed with trying to find her in the first place! Yamucha had absolutely no desire to see that woman again. He'd been worried--no, terrified--of what that cyborg might do ever since Kuririn told Dende to heal her after Cell had been killed. Maybe Kuririn **should** feel guilty for Juuhachigou's most recent victims--after all, the cyborg was an evil killer, and he had preserved her life. Plus, he had removed the only means of destroying the cyborg when Shenlong had removed the explosive bomb inside her; Juuhachigou was now unstoppable, thanks to Kuririn.

But he couldn't tell his friend and comrade-in-arms any of his misgivings. Especially when this friend was depressed and suicidal. Although it was strange that he hadn't noticed any unusual behavior last night when they went out with the girls. _He must be on an emotional roller coaster, high one day and down the next_, Yamucha realized._ That damn cyborg has really screwed with his mind! _He sank into contemplation of the female ability to make men suffer--something he had experienced too many of times himself.

"Hey!" Puaru hissed in his ear. "Say something to cheer him up! We can't just let him get killed!"

Yamucha nodded, thought a moment, then reached across the table and lightly punched Kuririn's chin to get him to lift his head. "Hey!" he said. "Cheer up! You can't just let yourself get killed!" Puaru groaned and slapped his forehead.

"Why not?" Kuririn retorted, rising in his seat. Anger flooded his face, but drained just as quickly, leaving him even paler than before. He slumped down again. "I deserve to, don't I? It's my fault she's still alive--my fault she's killed--" He hung his head again; his hands were trembling, but he balled them into fists to make them stop.

"So how will letting her kill **you **bring anybody back?" Yamucha demanded, then softened his tone. "Why don't you just use the dragonballs instead?" Kuririn looked up again, blatantly surprised.

"I--forgot about them--" Kuririn stammered. A smile quivered across his lips before he dropped his head onto the table, burying himself under his arms. "Oh God!" he groaned. "I'm so stupid! So damn stupid--"

"I think he's crying," Puaru murmured.

"Hush," Yamucha whispered. "Of course he is. He's spent only Dende knows how much time hating himself for something he could have easily changed. Give him a minute."

Puaru nodded and floated over to Kuririn to pat his back sympathetically until his shoulders stopped shuddering. Yamucha waited a bit longer he spoke. "Tomorrow we'll head back to the Western Capital and get the radar from Bulma to start the hunt for the dragonballs, okay?" Kuririn sat up and scrubbed a hand over his red-rimmed eyes before nodding in agreement. Yamucha smiled, relieved that for now the search for Juuhachigou was over. He announced his next plan, one that had helped him through many of his own problems in his life, and would surely allow Kuririn to forget his problems: "Tonight, though, let's go see what this town has to offer! We'll relax, have a few drinks, listen to some music, and forget about everything for a while--you'll feel better, I know it!"

  
  


**Author's second note: **Please let me know what you think of this chapter. Did you enjoy it? Did you notice the line about games of make-believe best being played alone? Do you remember it from Ch.3 "Reflections"? Eh? ^__^ Beware of the parallels! Ahahaha, and you know why Bulma's still in bed so late? Because Veji is back! ^_~

Thanks again to my sis for giving me the idea with the rain. Her penname here is Sygirl, so check out her poems and tell her I sent you! ^_~ Hey, I've got new poems too! Read them, too! (And review, please!)


	8. Soul Music

**Author's note:** Humble apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out....college seems to be quite time-consuming ^^ You probably should go reread at least the previous chapter to remember where it left off.

Please put up with Juuhachi's wanderings through this chapter, as there's actually some symbolism in it and it all leads to the climactic moment we've been waiting for…

**The Searching:**

Soul Music

  


Juuhachigou ran through the forest, through the rain and the mud, away from the cabin, away from her brother, away from the bloody apparitions that tortured her in the silence of her mind. She did not think, she only ran--but she could not escape the emotions chasing after her. Betrayal. Pain. Loneliness. Fear.

Her brother had betrayed her. They were different from the rest of humanity, but still twins, still alike, because they had **both **been altered. By denying the scars that made them the same, he denied the bloody truth of their existence and renounced the bond between them. She was not his sister anymore--so she had attacked him, because he was no longer her brother.

It hurt, knowing he really didn't care about her, even though a tiny part of her had suspected as much ever since she had to track him down after he was brought back to life. His experience with Cell, with death, had changed him--all that mattered to him now was the game he called "life." Or maybe she had changed. The knowledge that not even a powerful dragon could change her back into a human had ingrained a feeling of abnormality into her forever--there was no sense in pretending she was just a regular human. But Juunanagou didn't understand that. Juunanagou didn't understand **anything**. The bastard had abandoned her. Now, no one was like her, no one could understand her, no one could comfort her when she saw terrible visions of a body glistening with blood, of gleaming metal cutting soft flesh, of electric blue eyes promising only pain--

She was alone. And afraid, for she all she could hope for now was an isolated--and eternal--life with nothing to call her own except a storm of memories.

She ran on mindlessly, tirelessly, without any destination. Her legs carried her out of the forest, over slippery green hills, along a muddy dirt road until it turned into a paved street. She passed through neighborhoods, seemingly deserted since the rain kept people indoors. 

Eventually the rain turned to drizzle, then stopped completely but she kept running. Suddenly the sun glared through the cracks in the clouds and abruptly Juuhachigou became aware of her surroundings again. She stopped. She had control of herself again. Gone were the painful emotions that had driven her this far; now all she felt was anger.

_I'll never go back to that cabin again_, she decided at that moment. _Never._ Juunanagou's cabin had ripped her mind to shreds and stripped her of all self-control. It had killed her brother. She hated that place.

But where could she go now?

The city--it called out to her. Memories returned to her: towering buildings, colorful shops, masses of people. Despite her violent rejection of the city only days ago, it still promised to cover her tortured mind with a blanket of noise and diversions and a secret life among ordinary people. Those who had singled her out and made her **different** were dead; now she had the chance to live in anonymity.

She wouldn't be pretending she was normal--Juunanagou did enough of that, hiding alone in his cabin. Juuhachigou, on the other hand, would throw herself into a sea of people and drown her abnormal self, so that the only part that stayed afloat would be the tiny piece of her that was still** human**.

The city offered--and Juuhachigou could not refuse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The north side of Chamomile City was the complete opposite of downtown. Instead of orderly, shiny, steel-and-glass skyscrapers and neat stores and cafes, this place consisted of haphazardly constructed buildings, some painted in wild colors and decorated with intricate graffiti. Paper scraps and beer cans littered the alleys while weeds poked up through cracks in the sidewalk. Unlike the polished artifice of the urban center, this neighborhood felt careless and gritty. 

It was evening now and the setting sun lured the denizens of the neighborhood out onto the streets. Juuhachigou wandered down the streets, observing her surroundings. Some people stood in groups, chatting, while others played music. More cars drove past, heading for a night at the bars and clubs further down the street.

A young man with blue-dyed dreadlocks who wore nothing but a pair of paint-smeared jeans set up a portable easel a couple yards ahead of Juuhachigou; she halted near him to observe what he was doing. Using a knife, he smeared mauve paint onto his canvas, then used a brush to create several rectangular shapes. He noticed Juuhachigou watching and smiled at her without turning away from his work.

"Tha subtle intahplay of light and shad-ah at sunset is exhilarating," he sighed, dabbing crimson on to his picture. "Ya gotta let it capture ya, let it embrace ya like a lov-ah, before ya can try ta put it on pap-ah. Ya'know?"

Juuhachigou raised her eyebrows, momentarily surprised that he would talk to her so freely. "Like a lover?" she echoed, not understanding. She examined his painting, then stared at the buildings on the opposite side of the street, bathed in sunglow. 

"Yeah. Like a lov-ah." He was painting with yellow now. "Tha light's warm, gentle, kind--like tha body of the pahson who loves ya more than anything. Tha light don't care what ya're, tha light make tha ugly be beautiful. Ya'know?"

_Like a lover, _she repeated in her mind. _It doesn't care what I am? _ She looked at the painter. He didn't care that she was a cyborg, a stranger to him and this part of town, yet he spoke to her; did he love her? The thought brought an unconscious small smile to her lips.

_The light makes the ugly look beautiful._

If she stood in this spot on the sidewalk long enough, soaking up the sunset, the light would paint her the way the artist colored his canvas, covering all flaws and remaking her into someone better.

Her hand drifted to her chest, and Juuhachigou knew without looking that the scar was still there under the fabric of her shirt. Her smile vanished. She left the blue-haired painter and hurried down the street. 

As the sky grew darker, lights turned on: white streetlamps along the sidewalk, yellow lights next to doorways, golden lamps from house windows, bright neon signs above the clubs and bars. She passed by a group of people who were singing loudly to the strumming of a guitar. Juuhachigou had been right to come to the city, where comforting lights and sounds welcomed her and surreal memories couldn't follow her.

She spotted a glowing pink sign that read "The Lost-n-Found"; warm light and loud music spilled out of the open door beneath it and illuminated crowd gathered on the sidewalk. Juuhachigou wanted to go inside, to sink into the sounds and the sights of other people, but something else caught her attention: a rich, deep melody drifting on the evening air. She followed it to its source across the street and found an old, dark-skinned man sitting beneath a streetlamp. He held a curved gold instrument in his hands and blew air into it with his mouth, producing the elegant notes she had heard. He ceased playing as she approached him.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Oh, just a little piece I wrote myself," he replied; his voice was rough, not at all like the beautiful sound she had followed. "I call it 'Searching for Love'. You like it?"

Juuhachigou blinked. "I meant **that**," she clarified, indicating his musical instrument.

"This?" The man lifted it up and laughed. "This is a saxophone. Had it for 22 years. It's a part of me--without it, I'd be nothing. Take away my life, but not my music, I always say."

_Take away my life. _A shivering sensation washed over Juuhachigou. Everything that had been part of her had been taken away. Her life. Her body. Her mind. Even Juunanagou. And unlike this man with his music, she had nothing left. She was hopelessly **unhuman**, lacking everything that this man had. She had no memory of the past, no future with her brother, no life to enjoy--no death, either, since Kuririn made that wish with the dragonballs that took away the bomb Dr. Gero had put inside her.

Gero--Kuririn--Juunanagou--they had all taken something away from her and left her only with pain. And now this saxophone man had taken away the feeling of comfort she had found in this city.

Anger pushed away the chills on her spine as she raised a hand to attack the man who reminded her of all she had lost--but he had started playing on his saxophone again. The rage vanished abruptly and her hand dropped; she simply stood there, just outside the circle of the streetlight, and listened to the music.

When he finished, the man stood up stiffly. "Music comes from the soul," he said. Then he stepped out of the spotlight of the lamp and disappeared into the darkness. Juuhachigou stared at the circle of light for a long moment then walked back across the dark street to the club.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The dragonballs will save them! The dragonballs will save them!_

The phrase cycled through Kuririn's mind like a little chorus of joy as he walked between Yamucha and Puaru. They strolled down the street that, according to the Chamomile phone book, had the most musical entertainment in the city. "Man, this is the place" Yamucha announced. "There's so many clubs here!"

"There's even more live music," Puaru added. "Look how many people are out here, playing their own songs."

"Yeah, it's cool," Yamucha agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Free entertainment."

They kept walking, enjoying the lively atmosphere. The whole street seemed like a big party, full of music and dancing and people having fun. To Kuririn, it was like a celebration anticipating the resurrection of the dead people as soon as he found the dragonballs. He felt so light, so relieved. _The dragonballs will save them! _ He was no longer guilty.

Not **as **guilty anyway. He still had to find Juuhachigou, still had to convince her how evil murder was, still had to try to make her into a normal, good person--

"Ooh. Look at this!" Puaru squealed suddenly. He pointed at a poster hanging from the purple-painted wall of the apartment building next to them.

"Karaoke contest," Yamucha read aloud. "Sing to random songs and win the jackpot. From 11 to 1 PM. Twenty zenni entry fee. " He looked at Kuririn and Puaru. "What do you think? Should we try it? If we win, I'll get back all the money I've spent chasing after **this** guy!" He tousled Kuririn's hair and laughed. Kuririn smiled sheepishly.

"Let's do it!" Puaru suggested, raising a paw into the air.

"Yeah, I feel like singing," Kuririn agreed. "Where's it at?"

Yamucha, standing closest to the poster, read: "The Lost-n-Found Musical Restaurant & Bar. Two blocks down the street." He turned to Kuririn and Puaru with a grin. "C'mon, let's go!" He broke into a run; Kuririn and Puaru chased after him, laughing wildly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thank you! Thank you! Let's give it up for these gals!" exclaimed the hostess of the Lost-n-Found's karaoke contest as she ushered the previous contestants off the stage. "Careful, watch the steps. Okay. Next!" The next contestant, an old balding man, made his way up to the unfinished lumber stage to stand in the glare of three spotlights beneath a rainbow string of twinkling Christmas lights.

"Oh man, this place is a trip," Yamucha muttered to Kuririn. They stood somewhere in the middle of line of people waiting for their brief time in the limelight; he couldn't really see how many people where ahead or behind them due to the dim lighting in the rest of the bar. The grungy clientele probably preferred to hide in the dark. He yawned. The old man on stage sang. He yawned again. Kuririn elbowed him and hissed, "Wake up." Yamucha stuck out his tongue.

After several musical performances of varying talent, Yamucha, Puaru, and Kuririn finally stood at the front of the line. Yamucha dropped a twenty into the entry fee collection jar and the hostess summoned them with, "Come on up, y'all!" While they stood blinking in the bright spotlights, she drew a slip of paper out of box and announced the song they would have to sing. Yamucha groaned as he heard the title; it was a sappy oldie about a forlorn lover. 

"I don't know this one, guys," Puaru whispered. 

Kuririn grinned up at the cat and winked. "I know this one by heart, so don't worry." He picked up the microphone.

_Remember the prize money, _Yamucha told himself as the music started. He looked down at the karaoke screen in front of them. The words appeared and Yamucha and Kuririn began to sing while Puaru lip-synced with them. Yamucha was faintly aware of some cheering from the audience as Kuririn really put enthusiasm into his performance; he clutched the microphone, eyes closed and voice filled with the heartache described in the song. _He's good at this, _Yamucha thought. He decided to sing only the backup part and let Kuririn dominate the melody._ Sing your heart out, Kuririn. We're gonna win! _

Kuririn continued to sing, completely ignoring the karaoke screen as he eloquently conveyed the bittersweetness of the love song to the audience. Yamucha dreaded the high notes at the end of the song, but Kuririn threw himself into the tremulous long notes with such emotional intensity that even Yamucha felt moved. The song was nearly finished and Yamucha could almost feel the prize money in his hands.

A sharp, off-key shriek cut through the music and something flashed out from the black emptiness beyond the reach of the stage lights to slam Kuririn onto his back. Yamucha turned and all the blood rushed from his head as he saw **Juuhachigou**. 

The monster had returned.

She straddled Kuririn's body and choked his neck. Kuririn did not even attempt to fight back against her overpowering cyborg strength. The karaoke music was cut off and the hostess on stage was screaming for the bouncers to intervene. Yamucha's fighting instincts returned in a flash of terror and he fired a panicked ki blast at Juuhachigou as he leapt away from her to push the screeching hostess off the stage to safety. The ball of energy hit the cyborg full on, but she ignored it completely, even as light bulbs shattered and tables overturned and frightened patrons fled from the bar. She concentrated only on throttling Kuririn and slamming his head into the floor of the stage with such force that the wood splintered. Puaru hid behind Yamucha's shoulder, whimpering.

"YOU--" Juuhachigou shrieked. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?" Kuririn's head shattered the wood as she slammed him down again. She leaned her face close to his, not loosening her grip on his neck. "Why do you keep hurting me?" she demanded, tears falling from her eyes onto Kuririn's face.

_A machine like her can cry?_ Yamucha's mind wondered absently while the rest of him stood in silent, frozen helplessness as he watched the scene before him.

Juuhachigou let out a sob and one hand let go of Kuririn's neck in order to slap him. He coughed and spat blood, then turned to face her again. "Your pain--" his voice rasped, but Juuhachigou cut him off by encircling his neck with both hands again. 

"Stop it!" she cried, shaking her head and flinging out a shower of tears. Kuririn looked up at her, his lips forming words although he could not speak. Then he closed his eyes and smiled.

Immediately Juuhachigou released him and jumped backwards to float in the air just beyond the stage. Yamucha and Puaru hurried to Kuririn's side. "Are you okay?" Yamucha asked, cradling his friend's head and pulling splinters out of his hair.

"Why can't I kill you?" Juuhachigou demanded. Kuririn sat up slowly, coughing but still smiling at the cyborg hovering in the air before him. He wiped one of her tears from his cheek and replied, "Because you're human after all."

Juuhachigou reached up to touch the tears running down her face. Eyes wide, she sank to the ground and collapsed on the floor, crying softly into her hands. Kuririn shrugged off Yamucha. Forcing himself to his feet, he walked to the edge of the stage where he dropped to one knee and extended a hand towards Juuhachigou. She looked up at him, no longer crying, although wet streaks still shone on her skin. After a moment, she pointedly ignored his hand and stood up by herself; now she and Kuririn were eye to eye, with him kneeling on the stage before her.

"Come with me," Kuririn said softly. Then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She took an involuntary step backwards and raised a trembling hand to her face. Kuririn rose to his feet and looked back at Yamucha. "Let's get out of here," he suggested, his throat hoarse from being choked; bruises were already evident around his neck. Yamucha could only nod and follow his friend off the stage through the debris to the exit. He paused at the door to glance back at Juuhachigou; she still stood in front of the ruined stage, but he could not see her face nor guess at her emotions. Puaru nudged his shoulder gently and they left the bar.

They trailed a few feet behind Kuririn as they walked back along the street they had taken when they had arrived here earlier this evening in an attempt to distract Kuririn from Juuhachigou. _That failed completely_, Yamucha thought ironically. He stared at Kuririn's back and tried to make sense of the events he had just witnessed, but then he realized he would have to wait for Kuririn to enlighten him. 

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the sidewalk beside him. He turned to see who had tried to sneak up on them and almost screamed when he saw Juuhachigou. She looked at Yamucha cooly, flipped her hair over a shoulder, and then fell in step beside Kuririn. Yamucha stood back, completely stunned, as he watched them continue down the sidewalk. Together. Human and cyborg. Or simply--man and woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's second note: **Did you think about Juuhachi's "visions of a body glistening with blood, of gleaming metal cutting soft flesh, of electric blue eyes promising only pain"? These images come from Juuhachigou's memories of what Gero did to her, but they also describe her last memory of Juunana (in which he is glistening from rain and blood, holding the metal ax that he used to kill the bear, and his eyes cause Juuhachi pain because even though they look just like her own, but he still doesn't care about her). Plus, her own blue eyes bring her pain when she sees them in the mirror. Kinda sucks for Juu-chan. Maybe she likes Kuririn's dark eyes better? ^_~

So what did you think of the scene where Kuri and Juu finally meet up? Was it anything like you expected? I do like the parallel between Kuririn being kissed on the cheek by Juuhachigou in the series and now returning the favor. I admit, this whole scene might seem a little unclear since it's from Yamucha's point of view, but I hope that I've given you a good enough image of the character's hearts in the previous chapters so that you can interpret what's happening. ^_^ Let me know if you really don't have a clue what's going on.

**There's another chapter coming up! ^_^ So stay tuned. Leave a review with your comments or e-mail me at crazy_retasu@yahoo.com. **


	9. Restoration

**

The Searching:

**

Restoration

  


"Bulma, honey," Mrs. Briefs called over the intercom. "You have some visitors waiting for you downstairs."

"Okay, Mama, I'll be down in a moment!" Bulma shouted over the spray of the shower. She had invited some prospective clients over for lunch and a tour of the building, but she thought she would have enough time to freshen up before they arrived. _Wonderful timing, as always._ With a sigh, she turned off the deliciously hot water that had been streaming over her. She stepped out of the shower stall and took a fluffy white towel off the hook while warm air rushed from vents in the walls to dry her quickly. Wrapping the towel around her body, Bulma stood with her eyes closed in front of one vent so it blew directly into her damp hair. She ran her fingers through the tangles, then left the bathroom to hastily put on some clean clothes in her bedroom. As she finished buttoning a blouse, Vejita came in with Trunks on his arm.

"No, not now," she responded to the implication that it was her turn to take care of their son. "Keep an eye on him for a little longer, please. I've got to greet some people downstairs. Be back in half an hour. Okay?" She paused to kiss Trunks on the forehead and then briefly planted her mouth on Vejita's surprised lips before running past them and down the stairs.

Bulma began the usual welcome speech that she gave all company guests before she even made it all the way downstairs. "Welcome to Capsule Corporation. How may I--?" She suddenly stopped when she realized who her visitors were: Yamucha, Puaru, Kuririn, and a blonde young woman that resembled--**Juuhachigou**? Surprised, she looked to Yamucha for an explanation, but he only gave her a vague smile and an overall expression of nervous discomfort. Puaru simply grinned and pointedly glanced in the direction of Kuririn and Juuhachigou. Kuririn was crouched down tying a loose shoelace, but Juuhachigou turned to meet Bulma's eyes directly, blue to blue.

"Well, this is definitely a surprise," Bulma said, fighting off the awkward silence that was threatening to take over. Kuririn straightened up and spoke before she could ask any questions: "Bulma, could we borrow the dragon radar?"

"The radar? Why?" Her mind was jumping from conclusion to conclusion as it tried to formulate an answer to what was going on here. _Just **where **have Kuririn and Yamucha disappeared to these last few days? _"What do you need the dragonballs for?"

"We're going to help clean up the mess in Chamomile City," Kuririn replied. He smiled, an angel correcting the world's evils.

Suspicion crept into Bulma's mind. She looked at Yamucha again. "Are you guys **involved** with that somehow?" she demanded. Yamucha didn't answer; Kuririn's face seemed to redden slightly and bitterness tinged his smile, but he gave no explanation either. Juuhachigou simply crossed her arms. "Never mind. I don't want to know," Bulma sighed. She wanted no part of their complicated adventures right now, but she would give them what they needed._ I'll force the full story from them some later day, though!_

"The radar is in my desk in the shop," she stated and beckoned them to follow her down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bulma halted with her hand on the door of her workshop, peering through the small round window. "Heh. I thought Papa was working but he seems to be taking a break," she commented and swung open the door. "Come on inside." They filed in after her. Bulma's father sat at a desk, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine that he pushed out of sight as soon as they entered. Bulma walked over to him, politely asked him to vacate her desk for a moment, and began rummaging through its drawers. Dr. Briefs stood up and wandered over to a metal table in the center of the large room; the frame of a small robot lay on the shining surface, chips and wiring exposed. Cables stretched out from monitoring computers and reached into the robot's interior. Dr. Briefs turned to examine what was displayed one of the monitors; Juuhachigou stared at the robot on the table.

_--a body on a metal table--_

Juuhachigou felt her own body go rigid.

--_a body, split open down the middle, wires twisting into the wound--_

Something quaked deep inside her and a tremor traveled over her flesh. She unconsciously lifted a hand and placed it on her stomach, over the scar.

--_a body, dripping blood onto the floor--_

_--blood--_

"No!" With a shout, Juuhachigou burst forward and swept all the tools and scattered parts off the table with a violent crash. "No! Stop the blood!" She frantically yanked out the cables attached to the robot. 

"You can't do this again!" she shrieked. Juunanagou's body lay on the table, beads of blood oozing out from the gruesome line of stitches that ran from his chest to his stomach. "Not **again**!" She ripped the last cable off his shoulder and scooped him off the table. "**Never** again! Noooo!" she wailed, cradling his broken body in her arms. "JUUUUNAAANAAAAAA!"

A column of energy erupted around her, blowing her hair back wildly and tugging at her clothes. She clung to Juunanagou tightly, glaring at the angry light enveloping them.

"Juuhachigou."

Her eyes widened at the sound of her brother's voice; she looked down into Juunanagou's clear blue eyes and was startled to see herself reflected in them. "Can you see **now **what Gero's done to you?" she shouted over the roar of the light blazing around them. "Can you?"

"Juuhachigou." He smiled and put a hand to his chest--it was smooth and unscarred. "There's nothing there. I don't see anything." His blue eyes glinted.

She shook her head. "You're wrong--**Wrong**!" The energy surged and Juunanagou's hair began to fall away into ash. "Don't you see what Gero's done to us? Look!" Juunanagou grinned and closed his eyes; Juuhachigou cried out, but the energy exploded around her, melting away Juunanagou's flesh and leaving her clutching only his skeleton--bare, metal, and empty.

She heard someone call her name again, and two glowing arms reached out to twine about her waist, trying to pull her out of the raging energy. "Juuhachigou." The voice grew stronger. "Stop it, please! JUUHACHIGOU!"

_Kuririn. _

The voice was Kuririn's. Juunanagou had left her. Again. But Kuririn had found her. Again.

Abruptly the brilliance around her vanished. She saw the frightened faces of Bulma and her father. She saw the metal table with shredded wires and the broken metal parts strewn on the floor around it. She saw the small, metal skeleton in her arms; its stared up at her eyelessly.

"It's okay, Juuhachi...you're safe here," Kuririn said softly. His arms were still wrapped around her; the warmth of his body pressed against her back was a reassuring presence. She could feel his heartbeat. He was real; he was **here**. He was **with** her.

"Put Dr. Brief's house-bot back, Juuhachi. It's okay. Really."

Slowly, gently, Juuhachigou placed the skeleton back on the table.

--_Juunana--_

"Good," whispered Kuririn. His embrace tightened briefly. "Good." Then he released her.

Bulma strode towards them and slapped a small device into Kuririn's palm. "Take the radar and go."

They went, silent save for Yamucha's quickly muttered apology.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the afternoon of the following day, they had collected five dragonballs without any exceptional difficulty--and without much conversation amongst thiselves. Juuhachigou appeared to have nothing to say to either of the men, and Yamucha seemed to prefer the silence after having witnessed her lose control of herself **twice **in the past few days. Kuririn could think of nothing to say to either of his companions, so he focused on the task at hand: collecting the dragonballs in order to repair the damage Juuhachigou had done to Chamomile City.

After they had found the sixth of the magical orbs, Yamucha suggested that he take them back to Capsule Corporation while Kuririn and Juuhachigou looked for the last dragonball. He said he was tired and joked that he didn't want Puaru to feel abandoned with the crazy Briefs family. Kuririn knew, though, that Yamucha wanted to go and explain their situation to Bulma.

Using the radar, Kuririn and Juuhachigou located the seventh dragonball without much trouble; it was caught in the bow of a massive tree in an old growth forest. Now, flying side by side back towards the Western Capital, Kuririn finally gathered his courage to speak: "Um...about yesterday..."

Juuhachigou turned her head slightly and gave him an impassive glance.

"I mean," Kuririn began again. "Sometimes...sometimes I **also **see--or hear--**things** that aren't there. Things from the past, from a time that...deeply affected me. Hurt me." He saw that her brows were arched with surprise; she was listening. Encouraged, he banished the insecurity from his voice as he continued, "There are things that you wish you could forget, that you try to forget, because if you think about them too much, you'll go crazy with anger and grief and shame. But these memories are powerful and take a hold of you. They refuse to be forgotten, so they try to control you. They can destroy you, if you give them the slightest chance. I was like that..."

_Because of you._

"--But a very wise man saw what had happened to me, so he threw me off Kame Island and into the wide world where he hoped that I would learn to move on from the past. It seemed to work for a little while...I found distractions and thought that if I gave in to **them**, they would banish the painful memories." Kuririn suddenly felt self-conscious for talking so much, so **personally**, but Juuhachigou's pensive expression made him go on.

"If you do that, though, you're lying to yourself," he declared. "So life threw me a reminder of all I wanted to forget as soon as I thought I had escaped it. It made me face everything I had denied for so long...everything I had been ashamed and afraid of." __

_Like my love for you. _

"It hurt, though--it still does, sometimes." His mouth turned up in a half-smile. "Some days you fall and the old pain controls you again, and some days you rise out of it and live only for the joy of the present--and then you can finally dream of the future." Kuririn glanced at Juuhachigou again, and fell silent, gazing at her shining hair streaming back from her sharp face, the elegant lines of her eyebrows, the skyblue of her distant eyes, the gentle red of her tightly pressed lips. She turned her eyes on him expectantly; they gleamed with the light of the slowly sinking sun, and a golden aura seemed to surround her.

Flustered, Kuririn turned back to face the direction they were flying in and picked up his one-sided conversation. "My point is, you have to face what haunts you and learn to live with it. It's part of who you are--and whether it's ugly or beautiful depends on what you make of it. But in the end **no one** makes it through life unscarred."

At that moment Juuhachigou grabbed his arm and dropped all her speed, wrenching Kuririn out of flight to an abrupt mid-air halt. "What did you say?" she demanded, digging her nails into his upper arm and inadvertently reminding him of how those same hands had almost snapped his neck only a few days ago.

She seized his other arm with the same tight grip. "What did you just say?" she asked again, clinging to him painfully. There was no anger in her voice, only a need for reassurance. Her eyes searched his desperately, as if the answer lay in them. 

"No one makes it through life unscarred?" he repeated, unsure of what she wanted. Her lips parted in a silent gasp before she closed them in a soft smile. She relaxed her hold on Kuririn's arms, then let him go completely; she turned away from him, drifting in the air with her arms wrapped around herself.

"So...I'm not the only one with ugly deep scars," she said. The wind swirled through her hair.

"We all have them--some are just more visible than others," he answered. Then, suddenly unable to see her so alone against the empty sky, he encircled her with his arms and pulled her close against him, pressing his cheek against her soft hair. "But don't **ever** say that you're ugly," he whispered. _You are still the most beautiful woman that I could ever dream of, no matter what you've been through, no matter what scars your life has given you._

" 'Some are just more visible than others'," she echoed. Her voice was hushed. "Which is worse: to see a horrible scar or to not know the full extent of an invisible one?"

"Hidden scars are the worst," he responded after a moment. "But they lose their power when they're brought into the open. Like Yamucha, whose scars are plain on his face, but no one notices them anymore. A scar can become a mark of pride, a badge of strength--a tribute to your own survival."_ You left a scar on my heart, Juuhachi, but I survived--and now it's marked me as yours forever._ He closed his eyes, trying to imprint in his mind the sensation of holding the woman he loved, in case the opportunity never arose again.

"We'll see," she said. Then Juuhachigou slipped from his arms; a little needle pricked Kuririn's heart as she moved away. She spun around to face the direction of Capsule Corporation. "Let's hurry and bring this last dragonball back," she suggested, touching the spherical pouch attached to her belt. Kuririn nodded and with a bittersweet smile flew after Juuhachigou into the setting sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Should we wait till tomorrow to do this?"

"No, it's almost dark already, so we won't disturb half the world by turning off the sun--but the dragon will be really visible here."

"We could move--"

"Don't worry about it, the people around here are used to strange happenings at Capsule Corporation. Just get it over with."

"Who'll do the honors?"

"Who's the one who started all this? Hmm?"

"Fine...I have the wishes anyway..." Kuririn stepped up to the pile of seven glassy orange spheres, raised his hands in the air, and called out, "I summon thee, Shenlong! Come and grant my wish!"

Light shot forth from the dragonballs and a monstrous shape emerged, rushing up towards the night sky with a roar. The light solidified into the huge serpentine coils of a dragon, whose deep voice shook the ground beneath their feet: "I am Shenlong. I will grant you three wishes, whatever they may be."

"Oh Shenlong, I wish that Chamomile City and all its inhabitants are restored to their original state before--before Juuhachigou damaged them."

The dragon stared down at the semicircle of people gathered around Kuririn and the dragonballs. "That's impossible," he thundered.

Juuhachigou laughed softly. "Poor Kuririn, always asking for impossible wishes." _Why does he bother?_

The rest of the group turned to stare at her. She stared back, nonplussed. "True," Yamucha agreed. "And they always involve a certain impossible cyb--woman." Kuririn reddened.

"I will grant you three wishes," Shenlong repeated. "The restoration of Chamomile City could be broken up into two wishes."

"Really?" Kuririn perked up. "Okay...then I wish for all the damaged buildings in Chamomile City to be repaired"

_Why does he keep trying? _Juuhachigou wondered.

"Your wish has been granted," thundered the dragon. "What is your second wish?"

"For all the dead and injured people to be healed"

> 

_Why does he care so much?_

"Your wish has been granted. As an added bonus, those that were already buried or cremated have been resurrected above ground with whole bodies. Now, what is your final wish?"

"Watch, this'll be impossible too," someone muttered.

Kuririn said, "I wish that Juuhachigou won't be plagued by horrible visions anymore."

_Why does he always want to fix the bad things?_

_Why does he always want to help me?_

_Why does his smile fill me with such hope?_

"NO!" she shouted with the explosive force of the emotions bursting inside her. "Don't grant it!"

"What?" Shenlong and Kuririn asked simultaneously.

Juuhachigou ran to stand beside Kuririn. "Don't grant that wish--it'll take away some of my memories!" she shouted up at the dragon. She glared at Kuririn. "I don't have that many anymore."

"But--"

"They may be ugly, but they're a part of me. They made me. Don't take anything else away from me again, Kuririn. After all--" She leaned in close to him. "No one makes it through this life unscarred."

His eyes widened as he recognized his own words thrown back at him.

_I'm not running from the memories. I'm not distracting myself from them. I'm not like Juunanagou anymore._

"Leave me something of myself, something to be proud of," she said, softly. _Let me be the one to make my scars lose their power over me. Don't take that from me. Don't control me. _

_Don't remake me **again**. _

_Just let me **live**._

"Cancel that wish, then," Kuririn said. "I guess now I can ask for the final wish I had planned before you said that Chamomile City would take up two. I wish that Yamucha gets back all the money he spent on our 'adventure' together, although he deserves much more for being such a great friend."

"Your wish has been granted. Farewell." The dragon vanished and the dragonballs shot apart into the sky.

"Did you ask him to wish that?" Bulma demanded from Yamucha.

He scatched the back of his head embarrassedly. "No, I swear Kuririn--"

"You're welcome," Kuririn responded, smiling.

"Feh. All this fuss for a lousy artificial doll," Vejita sneered. Bulma elbowed him sharply in the ribs, although she held Trunks in her arms. "Shut up," she told the Saiyajin.

"Woman--"

"Oh, don't give me that. Stop bristling. Here, hold your son. He's getting heavy."

"Hmph. Weak human." Vejita took the boy and wandered back into Capsule Corporation.

"So what's next, Kuririn?" Yamucha wondered. "Where do we go from here?"

"Um..." Kuririn looked down at the ground and ran a hand over his hair. "I think I'll go back to Kame Island. The city life is a bit much for me after all, I think."

_Kame Island_...

"Are you going to leave right now? You're welcome to spend another night here," Bulma suggested. "**All **of you, no matter how my lousy husband feels." She winked at Juuhachigou.

"No," Juuhachigou replied with intense certainty. "I have to go somewhere else. But--thank you." She bent down and pecked Kuririn on the cheek. "See ya," she told him, then leapt up and flew away into the starlit night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She sure left in a hurry," Bulma observed, staring up at the dark sky.

"Yeah," Yamucha agreed. "You'd think she would have stayed with you for at least a little while, after everything you've done for her, Kuririn."

"She said 'see ya'," Kuririn responded; the stars in his field of vision blurred and he blinked the tears from his eyes.

Bulma laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He looked up at her. "Why? Every other time she's said that, we always saw each other again." He smiled and ignored the wet droplet that spilled from the corners of his eyes.

"Come on, let's go inside. It's been a long day," Bulma said and her hand gently guided him towards the door back into the building, but he pulled away and lingered for a moment to stare at the night sky. _I will see you again, Juuhachi._

_Even if I have to search the world over for you._

_But we'll find each other again._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


**Author's Note:** So Juuhachigou's light finally beat off the darkness and Juunana's ghost won't haunt her anymore...or at least for now. Kuririn really is a sweetly sappy guy, I think. It was his voice all along, not Juunana's, except for the few lines that were merely echoes from Juuhachi's memory.

I _really_ would like to make a doujinshi version of this story...I can even see what it would look like for most scenes, due to the mental pictures I have--it's like I watch the story in my mind as if it's a real episode of the show, and then I just describe it with words. ^^ I'm not sure I have the time (let alone the talent) to pull off a good doujinshi...I've only tried to make one **twice **(once was about a ditzy girl's wish to see all the Z-guys in concert...O_o....fortunately I only did the first 5 pages; the other doujinshi was a scene from _Hamlet_....Hamlet looked like a cheap imitation of _X'_s Kamui ). Maybe I'll just try do a key scene from "The Searching" or something? I'd appreciate any comments on this matter (or your own tales of failed doujinshi attempts ^_~) so leave a review or just e-mail me at crazy_retasu@yahoo.com


	10. Epilogue

**The Searching:**

**Epilogue**

  
  


It was a warm morning, even for the tropics. White cumulus clouds were already building themselves up on the humid heat rising off the ocean. A small figure sped through the sky, soaring freely among the towering clouds.

She had been waiting for him throughout the night, sitting on this rooftop alone. How ironic that she had fled the dark isolation of one small house only to end up spending a solitary night at another one.

She watched the distant figure approach; he showed no sign of having noticed her presence yet. A smile lay upon her lips but her uncertainty lingered, an unnerving sensation in her stomach.

What would she do with her life now?

What would he do with his?

She awaited his arrival with increasing impatience. Now he was close enough that he could see her--and he did. She watched him slow down but made no move until he hovered in front of her perch on the rooftop; she brushed some hair out of her face, stood up, and said, "Kuririn."

His surprise melted into a wide smile and he let his two suitcases drop to the sand below. "Juuhachigou!" he responded and flung his arms around her. The exuberant hug pushed her off the ridge of the roof and forced her to float in the air as well. Kuririn was laughing. "I thought I'd have to track you down all over again!"

She tentatively lifted her arms until they returned his embrace. "Idiot," she replied. She closed her eyes, and all the doubts of the past night drained out of her, leaving her feeling light and relaxed. "I've been waiting for you," she said softly. 

His arms tightened around her and they floated together above Kame House, silent in their embrace.

Finally, Kuririn pulled away and took her by the hand. "Will you come in with me?" he asked. The sea breeze tousled his black hair; behind him the ocean glinted with a thousand sparks of sunlight. "Let me show you my home," he offered.

She gave him a nod and a small smile, then willingly followed him down to the ground.

  
  


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_

The end...and the beginning.

_


	11. Soundtrack and final author's note

**The Soundtrack for "The Searching"**

(or, **The Longest Author's Note for This Story**)

  


Better Than Ezra, Trust Company, Fuel, Sarah McLachlan, Smashing Pumpkins, Alanis Morissette, Stabbing Westward, ATB, Matchbox Twenty, as well as some random techno/trance and JPOP mp3s were vital to the creation of this story. Doumo arigatou gozaimashita.

  


Several songs seem to fit the story so well and they helped me through many a tough chapter. I have my own interpretations of each, but maybe even you'll find some that you think match the characters in the story. Since music also played a pivotal role in the plot, I've listed a few of them below so you can download/buy them (if you don't know them already). At least expand your musical horizons and try something new. ^_^ Although most of them are in the alt/rock category....^^

  


"**Suburn**" **by** **Fuel**: This song simply belongs to "The Searching." It fits especially well for the first chapter with Kuririn, when he wakes up and neither Juuhachi nor Goku are there anymore. But it also works well for when Juuhachigou wakes up without Juunana there. And the falling sun reminds me of the blazing light that Juuhachi releases at Capsule Corp. Coincidentally, I noticed the line about "all my friends are searching" the day after I decided on the title of this fic. ^^ I think Fuel made this song just for me…

  


**Other songs (incomplete and in no particular order):**

"Take My Love" by Plazma (although this song makes me laugh for some reason...O_o)

"My Evil Friend" by Prime STH (just plain great for the story!)

"Let Me Bleed" by Prime STH

"Here Is Gone" by Goo Goo Dolls (also perfect for this fic, I think!)

"In Your Arms Tonight" from the "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" Soundtrack

"You Owe Me Nothing In Return" by Alanis Morissette

"Fiction (Dreams In Digital)" by Orgy

"Remedy" by Abandoned Pools

"Hung the Moon" by Better Than Ezra

"Particle" by Better Than Ezra (the first lines!!! oh!!! inspired a line that Kuririn says!)

"The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most" by Dashboard Confessional

"Honestly OK" by Dido

"Shame" by Matchbox Twenty

"Last Time" by Fuel

"Innocent" by Fuel

"To Be With You" by Hoobastank

"Crawling in the Dark" by Hoobastank

"Visions of Paradise" by Mick Jagger (whose voice I dislike, but the song is written by Matchbox Twenty's Rob Thomas, whom I adore!)

"Every You, Every Me" by Placebo

"Supreme" by Robbie Williams

"Gravity of Love" by Enigma

"What Is Love" by Haddaway (I'm serious! Just listen to those deep lyrics...ROFL! ^_~ This song came on my playlist while I wrote the scene near the end where Juuhachi explodes with energy and her vision of Juunana is ripped to shreds and Kuririn rescues her from her insanity. It was strangely appropriate at that moment. o_O)

  
  


Okay, so if you read all this, I'm very, very impressed. If you can't find any of these songs, have comments about them, or have ideas about other songs you found fitting, you ought to know where to find me by now! crazy_retasu@yahoo.com or leave a review. ^_^ 

  


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Thanks to Toriyama Akira for creating the characters in this story (with the exception of Gigi, Korynna, and all the inhabitants of Chamomile City!). Despite its extended battle scenes and slow plot movement, _Dragonball _was a great manga and good anime, filled with deep characters that just beg to be explored further.......so I hope my copyright infringement will be forgiven. ^_^

  


**Thanks to all those who read this fan fiction, especially those who helped me out during the two years of its production. It was a growing experience for me, as a writer and as a person, and I hope you enjoyed it as well! Final encouraging messages: Don't let anyone ever tell you that fan fiction can't be literature, and don't forget that every day of your life is a short story or novel waiting to be written! Life has symbolism, foreshadowing, irony, drama, comedy, romance, angst, and plot twists all of its own! **

  


**I look forward to hearing from you in other fiction. Thank you!**

  


**Ja ne!**

  


**~Crazy Retasu~**

**January 6, 2003**

  
  



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